Harry Potter and the Last Year
by Carla Lute
Summary: Last Year. Last Chance. Last Battle. Last Dance. It's time for Harry to say goodbye to Hogwarts. Canon through OotP, then AU.
1. The Portrait in the Attic

Harry Potter and the Last Year

By Carla Lute

**Notes: **I tried something unusual with the formatting of this story. There are actually two ways to read it. One way is by levels. That is to read all the Harry chapters to the end, and then read the story again from Draco's point of view. The second is to read chronologically, alternating between the two P.O.V.s. I believe both work. To read by Levels allows for more of a mystery. To read Chronologically, still has some mystery, but plays more as a comedy of errors. I used to have a personal fanfic website, that made it easier to choose your story path, but it's down for now. I have the story listed under two titles on Schnoogle dot com (Harry Potter and the Last Year and Draco Malfoy and the Last Year) also under the Carla Lute pen name. So I decided to post the chapter chronologically on fanfiction dot net.

This is the chronological version of the story. I hope you enjoy it. This is my first time in a long time to post on , so please make me aware of any formatting issues. I've done my best in regards to spelling and grammar, but haven't had much luck keeping a beta tester, so please feel free to drop me a private message if you notice anything off.

I tried very hard to keep the story in line with the Harry Potter canon presented in the first five books. Nit pickers will notice one small "inaccuracy". I did make Lucius Malfoy a bit younger than the Daily Prophet lists him, for my purposes this was a typo on the prophets part, and Lucius wasn't too happy about it.

**Disclaimer:**This story is based on the Harry Potter novels written by J.K. Rowling. All characters created by J.K. Rowling are owned by J.K. Rowling. The few characters created by me (i.e. Persephone, Hotchet, Kagome…) belong to me, but are available for use in other fics as long as I get credited as their creator. None of us are making any money off this and no infringement is intended.

o

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**Level 2.1: The Portrait in the Attic**

Draco Malfoy paced along the balcony at the top of the stairs. Below, black capes swam past the staircase into the drawing room. Draco watched the hoods, checking their body language and catching occasional glimpses of faces, trying to figure out who the individual Death Eaters were from those clues. Some of them were easy, some he was quite sure he had never met.

The whole house was in shadows. It was very late at night, the best time for secret gatherings or in this case silent migrations. Downstairs small candles spotlighted corners of the hall. The halls at the top of the stairs were cloaked in shadow. Draco could have been seen quite easily if anyone had bothered to look up, but the Death Eaters kept their faces down. Draco was not too worried about any of them looking up. He could take a few steps back from the stairwell and be completely cloaked by the darkness if he so wished.

Besides this was his home, his manor. There was no reason why he should not know who was coming into it. He would be introduced properly soon. Tonight the Death Eaters were simply too busy relocating to the chambers underneath the manor. His father had promised him that this summer he would finally be taken into the fold, that he had finally grown enough to know everything.

Draco thought it all a great bore. The Death Eaters all looked so dull in the same black robes, the same hunched stride. His father's bright blonde head and tailored clothing stood out as he quietly directed the throng of Death Eaters in the same manner he would have escorted members from the ministry into the parlor for tea. Lucius Malfoy wore black as well, but his black was clean, his cape shiny and lined with a silky, subtly patterned dark green. His long blonde hair fell straight with a little bit from either side of his face tied back with a thick black ribbon. But his father always dressed with great care, so this was of little interest to Draco.

Sometimes before, he would have wanted to be down there, part of the secret society, completely in the know. But right now, he enjoyed looking down on them. He was not sure he wanted them in his home. Not that he was frightened, he just liked having his space and did not know what kind of wizards were under those cloaks. Yes, they were followers of Voldemort and probably pure bloods, but even among the pure blooded wizards was a large population that he would rather not have under his feet.

Still, dull as they were, he could not convince himself to return to his chambers for more stimulating pleasures. He breathed quietly, feeling he could maintain his post as unknown observer and discover something wondrous before he was meant to know it.

Then HE entered. Draco felt his chest grow slightly colder and the coldness followed his veins to the tips of his fingers. The Dark Lord was taller or seemed taller than most of the Death Eaters. His ashen face, snake-like and barely human, surveyed the hall with more alertness. Draco had known Voldemort was coming, but he really had not expected him. He took a few steps back to avoid the Dark Lord's gaze but felt that Voldemort was quite aware of him anyway. He felt the instinct to retreat but did not dare run away from Voldemort, knowing that fast footfalls would only draw more unwanted attention to himself.

And then the Dark Lord was gone. He had moved through into the drawing room where Draco's mother was waiting. More Death Eaters followed. There had really only been twenty of them all together, but it seemed like more. And then the Death Eaters were gone. And then his father was gone.

Draco knew better than to go downstairs before he was asked. He took a deep breath, shook his head slowly, stretching to relieve the tension in his neck. Then he walked to his bedchamber. It was late, and he doubted there would be anything of interest happening that night. He took off his shoes, and not bothering to undress further, laid down on his bed to sleep.

He slept, but not well. After a few hours, he was not sure how many, he awoke. It was still dark and he still had that cold feeling in his veins. He had always laughed at people's reactions to Voldemort. He had laughed at the Mudbloods frightened whispers of "You-Know-Who" and "He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named". More privately he had laughed at his parents' reverent mentions of "Lord Voldemort" or "The Dark Lord". It had all seemed so overblown. After all, Lord Voldemort had been born the same way any other man was born. He had gone to school at Hogwarts. He had even been a bloody prefect. Draco was a prefect. Draco knew plenty of curses. He could have gone around knocking off Mudbloods if he so fancied. He had never understood the fear and reverence that followed Voldemort.

Not until tonight.

What really chilled him was that he had understood it so completely in one glance. Voldemort had not said anything, had not done anything. Draco could not be sure that he had even looked at him properly, but he had cowered as if Voldemort had been standing over him, rather than passing under his feet like the others.

And he could still feel him. Feel the dark, cold magic where the warmth of the bed should have been on his back.

Draco stood. He stretched his legs, his body, ran his fingers through his hair, which had been put in slight disorder by his nap. His legs kept moving, and he decided to walk to clear his mind. His legs led him out of his bedchamber, into the hall, into another hall lit by the moonlight coming through tall windows.

There were no guests upstairs. His parents were downstairs, settling the black robed migration into the secret chambers below the manor house. He was essentially alone. He climbed the stairs to the third floor. On the third floor, he walked the opposite way down the moonlit corridor and found a door that he had forgotten about. The door led to the attic. He had not been inside the attic in years. It was dusty and dull, all the more interesting items were downstairs for use or display or locked away in secret places under the floor.

Draco did not go to the attic that night. But after a week of midnight wanderings, he had run out of halls and rooms and grounds.

The door to the attic on the third floor was a proper door, but it was a hatched door that led into the attic itself. Draco lifted it and climbed through. The attic was slightly more interesting in the moonlight. It was a large chamber that ran the length of the manor and had a large window at each end. Even with the windows, the attic was dark enough that Draco lit the lantern waiting by the hatch. The lantern bobbed up into the air until it was level with Draco's eyes.

"Follow me," he told it.

The attic was large enough that nothing had needed to be stacked, and there was still a good bit of floor space to walk around. The floors were bare wood. Few of the boxes or crates were higher than Draco's waist. The taller items were pushed against the walls, increasing the cavernous feeling. Draco walked through the boxes, glancing at them as he passed without any real interest. The lantern followed him obediently. He was not worried about anything hiding in the shadows, servants cleared the attic fairly regularly, but there were enough things scattered about the floor. He did not want to trip and cause an unnecessary racket. The ceiling was high, two or three times Draco's height, and Draco was a few inches shy of six feet.

"You could probably fit Weasely's entire house in here with room left over," he mused to himself.

"Hello?"

Draco twisted about looking for another person hiding in the attic. His pulse quickened a bit, and his eyes danced from shadow to shadow.

"Is anyone there?" the high, muffled voice came again.

"Come out," Draco said.

"I can't."

"I'm armed," Draco said, pulling his wand out and holding it at ready.

"I would really like to, but _I can't_."

The voice did not sound threatening. It sounded young and female. Draco wondered why it had the muffled quality. He looked about for an old dresser someone could be hiding in.

"Are you still there?" The voice came again.

Draco followed it. "Yes, I'm still here."

"Please, don't leave."

"Are you a ghost?" Draco asked.

"No, I'm not."

The voice was getting a little louder. Draco walked slowly past a pile of crates and covered things. "What are you then?"

"I'm a girl, silly."

Draco stopped. The sound had come from just behind him. He backtracked to the crates. A tan cloth hung over something about four feet tall, flat with pointed edges. "Wait a minute," he said and pulled the cloth aside. "You're just a painting."

It was a painting of a silver-haired witch. Life sized, but cut off near the waist. Draco sat down in front of it, relief giving him the first rush of warmth that he had had in a while.

"You gave me start," he said, as he studied the painting more closely. The shoulder-length hair sticking out wild and silver about her head had at first made him think that she was an older woman, but her face was that of a young girl close to his own age, perhaps a little younger. The girl was wearing Hogwarts robes with a Slytherin badge. Her irises were silver as well. Her face was round, though not chubby, and her expression one of cautious hope.

"Lucius?" she asked, squinting a bit against the sudden light.

"No," he said. "I'm not Lucius."

She looked slightly disappointed then hopeful again. "Can you help me? Can you get me out of here?"

"Out of the attic?" Draco asked. If paintings could get bored, he supposed being covered in an empty attic would be the fastest way to do it.

"No!" She said, starting to look frustrated again. "Out of the painting."

"What are you at?" Draco said. "You are a painting."

"I'm not," she said, almost in tears. "I'm a girl, and I'm stuck in here."

Draco wrinkled his brow. He wondered if paintings could go mad. If they ever convinced themselves that they were their subjects. But then, his parents did know a lot of dark magic, and they knew a lot of people who knew a lot of dark magic. Maybe it was possible to enchant someone into a painting. If so, his parents may have had a very good reason for putting her in the attic.

"Who are you?" he asked.

"I'm Persephone," she said. "Persephone Potter."

She said it very matter of factly as though not thinking the name "Potter" carried any more significance than the name "Smith" or "Creevey". Draco stared, wondering why on earth his family would have a painting of a Potter.

"But why are you wearing Slytherin robes?" he asked.

"I'm in Slytherin," she said with a little pride. "I'm a Fifth year."

"But, you're a Potter?" he said.

"Yes," she said. "Mama was in Ravenclaw in school. Papa was a Gryffindor though, and so is James. But I never wanted to be in a house with him anyway."

Draco knew his mouth was hanging open but was in no hurry to shut it. The name James Potter was familiar. He had heard his father complain about James Potter often enough, whenever he himself had complained about Harry. Persephone...maybe he had heard that name before too, but not often, not in a long time.

"Wait!" The girl said. She was keeping her voice down as Draco was doing, but the excitement came through anyway. "Are you Draco _Malfoy_?"

"Yes," Draco said.

"Are-are you Lucius's son?"

"Yes."

"I should have known it," she said. "Lucius told me he wanted to name his son Draco." She studied Draco. "Oh dear. How old are you?"

"Nearly seventeen," he said. He was going to be a Seventh Year when the term started, his last year at Hogwarts.

"Seventeen," the portrait repeated. "What year is it? How long have I been here?"

Draco told her the year. Persephone clapped her hands over her mouth. She seemed to fall back in her portrait as though the blotchy orange background made a wall behind her. "Can't be," she said at last. "Can't be. That's twenty years. I mean it felt like a long time, but I thought that was just because I was bored. But-twenty years." She looked ready to cry. Draco was not sure what he could say to comfort her, or if he should comfort her.

"Can't you get me out, please?" she said, regaining herself. "Or get Lucius, he'll get me out!"

"You mean he didn't put you there?" Draco said.

"No, of course not," the portrait said. "He'd never do something like that. At least, I don't think so."

Draco wondered how long she had been in the attic. Even he knew his father had done worse things than that. "Who did then?"

The portrait hesitated, "Who's your mother, Draco? Is it Narcissa Black?"

"Yes," Draco said. The portrait's face fell. She looked down at the ground. "My mother put you in there." Persephone nodded. "Why?"

"I don't know," Persephone said. "I thought Narci was my friend."

"I don't believe you," Draco said defensively. He stood up. His fascination with the painting killed by the accusation against his mother. "I bet you're nothing but a painting gone nutty." He headed swiftly back to the hatch. Ignoring the pitiful cries behind him.

"No! Please, don't go. Please, help me out. Ask them if you don't believe me! Ask them! Please, come back. Draco-"

o

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o

He closed the door to the attic and stormed back down to his room, too angry to remember his sleeplessness.

Draco told himself that he was just anxious. Once he actually met the Dark Lord, all the tension would melt away. If he could only get that initial meeting over with, everything would be all right. He would be welcomed fully into the adult world, into the world of his father and mother.

But he could not simply burst in upon the Dark Lord and say hello. He had to wait to be formally introduced, something his father appeared to be in no rush to do. Draco tried to push Voldemort out of his mind. He remembered Professor Snape coming up to him in his fifth year at Hogwarts.

_I'm teaching Potter Occlumency, a skill that closes the mind from prying eyes. I want you to learn as well._

At the time, he had thought that Professor Snape was just trying to keep Potter from out classing him, but now he wondered if Snape knew the sort of company his father kept. Draco lay in bed, trying to remember the few lessons he had received. They had only had five sessions in all. Two during his fifth year, three last year. He focused, shutting the doors to his mind. He did not know how well it was working, but it helped him relax. He finally got the goodnight's sleep he had been needing.

o

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o

Draco awoke more refreshed than he had been since the arrival of the Death Eaters. He still did not want to think too much about Voldemort. He was not allowed to have visitors or go visiting. His parents were occupied with their guests. So his thoughts turned back to the portrait in the attic. He looked through his parents' old photo albums, something he usually found very dull. He looked through the album of their Hogwarts days. In his father's fourth year, his mother's third, he started seeing hints of a small silver-haired girl with Slytherin robes in the background. As the next three years progressed, she joined the foreground, and looked more and more like the portrait in the attic. In almost every picture she was laughing or smiling.

Draco stopped at one photograph, which contained only four figures. There was his father proudly displaying a prefect badge. The short silver-haired girl stood beside him pulling a shy, shifty looking boy with limp black hair closer in to the group. She kept jostling him trying to get him to smile, which he would do weakly then look away from the camera. From Lucius' other side, a young Narcissa watched them coolly. The girls would occasionally turn and point at the badge, which would make Lucius laugh.

The next few pages had similar group shots taken at different events, and twice as many photographs with just his father and mother, at a Quidditch game, at Hogsmeade, at a school dance. Then his father disappeared from the pictures having left Hogwarts as head boy and Quidditch Captain.

Most of the photographs became gatherings of different groups of girls, usually Slytherin, all including his mother and several of them had the silver-haired girl. There were a couple of pictures with just the black-haired boy and the silver-haired girl. In one she was hugging him while he stood stiffly and turned slightly pink, in another they were playing some game that involved a small ball and a pair of cricket paddles. Draco guessed his mother had taken the photographs. Then he came to a page that had simply one photo of the silver-haired girl all by herself. She was trying to sit still as if for a formal portrait, but kept wiggling and shifting between looking serious and choking back a laugh.

Underneath in a very neat script was written:

Persephone Potter

Silver Child

Vanished but Not Forgotten

Draco stared at the picture a long time, then he flipped through the album again.

_Surely not_.

Draco closed the album. He slipped it back on the shelf.

"Draco."

His father's voice came from behind him. Draco fought the reaction to jump successfully and turned to look at the older Malfoy. His father was dressed in deep red today. "Hello father," he said and was proud of the control in tone.

His father glanced at the albums and smiled. "Bored?"

"Just a bit."

"You must be bored to go through those old things," Lucius said.

Draco saw an opportunity and decided it was an appropriate moment to be curious. "Father, who is Persephone Potter?"

To his surprise, his father started softly singing a nursery song,

"Silver child with hair quite wild,

Radiant and splendid.

A clever girl, a charming girl,

A girl that's well befriended."

Draco blinked, and his father laughed sadly. "Persephone Potter was fine girl. Pure blood and a pure heart. She was James Potter's sister, though you never would have guessed it."

"Why are her hair and eyes like that?"

"She was born that way. Mother Potter made a mess of some charm. I always thought she was rather pretty."

"Not like mom," Draco said.

"Oh, no," Lucius smiled. "Not nearly as pretty as your mother. Persephone came to Hogwarts when I started my fourth year. James was horrid to her, so I took her under my wing. And then the year after I graduated, she vanished into thin air. No one's heard from her since." Draco thought he saw a trace of guilt flicker across his father's face, as though sorry he had left the girl unprotected.

"How did she vanish?"

"No one knows," Lucius said. "She was at Hogwarts of all places when it happened. Right out from under old Dumbledore's nose. Fine headmaster." He said the last sentence with a disgusted snort.

"What do you think happened?" Draco asked.

"Not a clue," Lucius said. "Everyone looked for her. There were no notes, no threats, no warnings, no leads. She was just gone. Narcissa was heart broken about it. They were good friends. She thinks it was James Potter, some cruel gag gone wrong."

"Do you think it was Potter?"

"I wouldn't be surprised," Lucius said.

Draco decided not to ask any more. The memory seemed to be genuinely sad for his father and that was not something Draco saw often. "Everything going well?" Draco asked, indicating the drawing room.

"Yes," his father said. "In fact I was coming to get you. Lord Voldemort is ready to meet you."

Draco felt his heart jump up to his throat. He swallowed it back down. "I'm ready."

Lucius smiled and lead his son into the parlor. It was mid-afternoon. A very nice Tea was set out on the table with plenty of biscuits and jams. The curtains were drawn and sitting on the formal Victorian sofa with the large floral pattern was the Dark Lord Voldemort. Voldemort was taking a small biscuit and placing it in his mouth. If the cold feeling had not returned to Draco's chest, he would have laughed at the absurdity of it.

He sat down in the high backed chair opposite the Dark Lord. His father sat in a second chair. His mother hovered in the corner. No one attempted to share the couch with Voldemort. Draco did his best to look more reverent than petrified.

"So, this is your son, Lucius?" The Dark Lord said in a deep, hissing voice.

"Yes, my lord," Lucius said. "Draco, my only child."

"He takes after you, Lucius. How are your studies at Hogwarts, Draco?"

"I'm third in my class, sir," said Draco not completely keeping the pride out of his voice.

"Oh, yes," the Dark Lord hissed. He took some tea. It was strange watching him drink. He seemed off somehow, as if his mouth did not quite close right on the cup. "Two places behind the Mud-blood Granger."

Draco looked down instead of giving his father the betrayed look that he wanted too. Why had his parents brought _that_ up to the Dark Lord? It was bad enough hearing from his father every year, but now even the Dark Lord was complaining about his perfectly reasonable marks.

"Take some tea, Draco," Voldemort instructed. "Or it will get cold."

Draco wanted to tell him that was absurd. The cups were all enchanted so that tea never got cold prematurely. He held his tongue. He dreaded moving his hand from the safety of his lap. It was threatening to shake. He picked up a small biscuit, which would not clatter as much as the cup could and placed it in his mouth. When he managed to do this without incident, he reached for his teacup.

As Draco sipped his tea, Voldemort took some from his own cup. Draco tried not to stare too hard at his snake like lips.

"Would you die for me, Draco?" Voldemort asked smoothly.

Draco put his cup down very slow. He could sense his father tensing in his own chair. Draco quietly took in a breath. He raised his eyes to look at Voldemort's red ones. "If you require it, sir," he said sounding far more certain than he felt. He used the _Occlumency _technique Snape had shown him. He was not trying to hide anything in particular but focusing on that rather than his words made it easier to speak. "But I would rather live for you."

Voldemort laughed, a cold abrupt laugh that followed with a hissing wheeze. "Of course. Of course." He turned those burning red eyes to Lucius. "A Malfoy knows better than to grovel."

Lucius allowed a small, tight smile.

Voldemort took a very dainty looking iced butter biscuit and placed it in his mouth. As far as Draco could tell, he did not chew, but when he opened his mouth again the biscuit was gone. "Would you kill for me, Draco?"

"Who do you want to me kill?" Draco asked.

"Potter," Voldemort said. "Weasley, either one, both. Longbottom. Granger."

"Longbottom would be easy," Draco said. "Potter and Weasley more trouble, but given the opportunity, I would."

"And Granger?"

Draco clamped the Occlumency tighter around his mind and smiled, "That filthy little Mudblood? My pleasure."

Voldemort made a mouth movement that might have been a smile. "Well, don't get yourself expelled. Not yet anyway, but if you have the opportunity, do not hesitate on my account."

"Yes, sir."

"Draco," the Dark Lord narrowed his eyes. "If I required it, would you kill your father?"

"No." The word came out clear and strong without Draco having to think about it. His fear, his nerves were forgotten, and he stared unflinchingly at Voldemort.

He was aware of his father looking at him. Trying to keep his own shock down both at the question and answer.

"Well," said Voldemort, with the smile like expression again. "You have a bit of bravery in you. That is good. I see how far I can push you then. Your honesty helps me know how much I can trust you." Draco's body was still very tense, and his eyes still did not flinch. "Relax," Voldemort hissed, leaning back a bit on the sofa himself. "I do not require your father's death today."

By and by, they finished the tea. Voldemort's questions after that were simpler things, silly pleasantries like what position Draco played on the Quidditch team and if he thought they would be victorious this year. Finally, Draco was excused. He bowed politely and left calmly. His mother followed him out. When they were a few rooms away she put her arms around him.

"Oh, my Draco, I'm so proud of you," she said.

"It's only tea, mother," he told her, though he was glad to get her praise.

She took his face in her hands and looked at it admiringly. "You are my pride and joy." She kissed his cheek, and then returned to the parlor.

Draco walked calmly up the stairs to the second floor. He moved gradually faster until he was running up the attic stares. He slammed open the hatch and crawled up onto the floor.

"You came back," he heard Persephone's hopeful voice say.

He ignored her, slumped down before the painting. He hugged his knees and started shaking uncontrollably.

"Draco," he heard the painting say. "Draco, dear, are you all right?"

He breathed irregularly as though he were to start crying, but his eyes stayed dry. After his shaking subdued into trembling, he turned to the painting.

"I'm such a damn coward," he said.

"Shh," Persephone soothed from the painting. She stretched out a hand as if to touch him but could not get it past the canvas. "Surely not."

"Look at me," he said, showing her his trembling hands. "It was just a tea, and I'm having convulsions." He tried to laugh at himself but it came out as a series of puffy breathes. "He called me brave."

"You think you're a coward because he called you brave?"

"He was mocking me," Draco said. "He knows why I said what I said. He knows it's all just talk. I can't do anything."

"Nonsense." Persephone said. "I bet you're such a talented wizard that you could have me out of this painting in an hour if you put your mind to it."

Draco laughed. "You're as selfish as I am."

"Maybe," Persephone said. "It just been on my mind for a long time, hard to think about anything else."

"I talked to my father," Draco said.

"Is he going to get me out?"

"No. I would be putting him in a bad spot right now to tell him about you, but I asked him."

"And?"

"He thinks James is responsible for your disappearance."

Persephone looked thoughtful. "No, James is a bully, but he didn't do this. Narcissa did."

"How do you know that for sure?" Draco asked.

"Well, she asked me down to lake, said she wanted to paint my portrait. So I went to meet her. Only, next thing I know I'm in the portrait, and she's pointing and laughing and telling me that 'now, you can't get in my way anymore'. I thought she was playing a gag, but then she put a silence spell on me, wrapped me in brown paper, and mailed me back to her home," Persephone said. "She hung me up in her bedroom for a while, I remember her showing me her engagement ring. Then I guess she married your father, because next thing I know I was moved up to the attic."

Draco blinked. It seemed like a random, elaborately cruel thing for his mother to do. He knew she could be cruel sometimes, not to him but to other people. But he never thought his mother was random. "Why would she do that?"

"I'm not sure," Persephone said. "Only thing I can figure is that maybe she thought Lucius fancied me. He was always kind to me, and I admit I had a bit of a crush on him my first couple years. But he was really more of a big brother. He had promised to take me to dance at the end of term if I couldn't find a date. But Severus asked me, and I knew Narci fancied Lucius, so I was going to tell her that he was off the hook. But then, she slapped that silence spell on me before I could say anything."

That sounded a little more like his mother, but he still was not convinced. They had looked so happy in the pictures. He knew his mother had assembled the photographs. Persephone had her own page. His father had said she was heartbroken when Persephone disappeared.

"Besides, James knew better than to do something like that to me," Persephone said. "Papa and Mama would kill him if he had, and he knows it."

"They're a bit late," Draco said, the words flowing out automatically.

"What do you mean?" Persephone asked, her silver eyes intent on him.

"James Potter is dead," Draco said. There was no sense skirting around it. It was true. She might as well know.

Persephone clamped her hand over her mouth. "Dead?" she repeated. "James is dead? But even if it's been twenty years, he wouldn't yet be forty. How did he die? When?"

"He died sixteen years ago."

"But he would only be about twenty one, that can't be right. Was there an accident?"

"No, Lord Voldemort killed him."

"Who's Voldemort?" Persephone asked.

Malfoy blinked. If he had done his math right, Persephone should have still been out of the portrait when Voldemort had started gathering followers the first time. "He's the most powerful dark wizard that ever lived. He killed many of the most powerful wizards and witches during the eleven years he was gathering power."

"I remember," Persephone said. "In the Daily Prophet, there had been more and more mysterious disappearances, murders and stuff, but I don't think they had figured out if they were connected or who was responsible. But why James? He was so young."

Draco thought she sounded awfully concerned about someone who had been such a terrible bully. "James was just in the way," Draco told her. "Voldemort was really after James' infant son Harry."

"James had a son?" Persephone's eyes grew wide as she took it all in. "Why would he want to kill a baby? Did Harry get away?"

"Oh yeah, he got away," Draco snorted. "He's in my class at Hogwarts. He's a prick, a Gryffindor, and incredibly full of himself."

"Sounds like James."

"And Harry not only got away, he destroyed Voldemort's power, reduced him to a phantom of his former self, sent him into hiding."

"As a baby?"

"Yeah, and all Potter's got to show for it is a big lightning scar on his forehead."

Persephone fell quiet to process it all, and Draco did not mind. He was trying to process things himself. He sat there for while, hoping no one was looking for him. He did not want to look weak after that bluff at tea.

"Poor Mama and Papa. First I go missing, then James..." Persephone looked up at Draco. Her face full of dread. "You said he killed other wizards. My Mama and Papa? Are they-?"

Draco thought. "Harry Potter lives with his Muggle aunt. The rest of his family is supposed to be dead."

"Voldemort...killed them?"

"I don't know how they died," Draco said. "It might have had nothing to do with Voldemort. Could have been something completely natural." He had no reassurance in his voice. It could have been Voldemort. He had killed enough people. Two more would not make much difference. But it seemed to make some difference to Persephone.

He looked at her. She was pressed back, hands over her mouth, eyes brimming with tears.

"It gets even better," Draco said flatly.

Persephone's sobs subsided enough for her to say behind her hands. "When you say 'better' you mean 'worse', don't you?"

"Oh, yeah," he said. "Voldemort's here. In the house, downstairs, I just had tea with him."

"That monster's here?" Persephone gasped. "Does Lucius know?"

"Lucius is the one who invited him," Draco said.

Persephone fell silent. Draco realized his shakes were gone and thought he had better get downstairs before someone came up here. "Look, being stuck in that painting may have been the only thing that's kept you alive." He stood back up, dusted himself off, and headed back downstairs.

o

* * *

o

The following week dragged on. Narcissa did not want to leave the manor even long enough to go to Diagon Alley for Draco's school supplies. She did not allow Draco to leave long enough to get them himself either. His books and things were sent for and arrived by owl. Since he could not go anywhere and no one called on him to entertain Voldemort again, Draco tried to pass his time by reading through his schoolbooks, but that only kept his attention so long.

Within a few days he found himself in the library, searching for a spell that would allow him to trap someone in a painting. At first he had simply meant it to be a way to pass the time, but the less he found, the more he wanted to find it. The Malfoys had a large library that went up two floors with a balcony all around the second. There were quite a number of comfortable chairs and couches, which Draco fell asleep on usually well past midnight, and a few small tables where he had the house-elves leave him food. Lucius Malfoy walked in on him a few times, not finding anything unusual about his son reading. However after Draco's third day of only leaving the library for toiletries, Lucius seemed to think something might be off.

"Draco, what the devil are you up to?" he asked.

"Just getting ready for school, father," Draco said, looking up from The Magic Art of the Moving Masterpiece.

"Those don't look like your school books."

"No sir, they're upstairs." Draco felt his mouth getting slightly dry, but this was only because the person questioning him was his father. If there was anything Draco knew how to do, it was lie well. One of the best tricks was not to lie at all. He gave his father a mock innocent smile. "I was looking for something to help me with my Potter problem."

"Ah," his father said. Lucius unlocked the large but innocent looking cabinet against the far wall. Some of the books in this cabinet had additional locks on them. One of them was rumbling as though it sensed the unlocked door and was trying to make an escape. Lucius selected one. To Draco's relief, it was not the rumbler. He locked the cabinet door and handed the book to Draco. In very happy looking letters with cute stylized stencils of flowers and herbs, it said Horribly Harmful Draughts From Humbly Harmless Herbs.

"Thanks," Draco said, opening the book as though it were a new Christmas present.

Lucius smiled and turned to walk out. "Father," Draco said when Lucius reached the door. "Could I borrow that key so that I could put the book away when I'm done?"

Lucius gave Draco an assessing glance. Draco should have known it would not be that easy. "Aren't we neat?" Lucius said over enunciating the last word. "You had no idea of course of going through the other books in the cabinet."

Another trick to lying really well, Draco knew, was to know when to stop. "Well, that thought may have crossed my mind," Draco said with a smile he found to be very effective against his mother when he was ten. He must have truly impressed his father at tea, because Lucius handed over the key.

"Just don't forget your school books," Lucius said as he let the chain slip from his hand. "You want to at least leave with top marks out of the _boys_ this year."

Draco nodded, the rest of his father's sentence finished in his head, _even if you are still behind Granger_.

When his father left, Draco flipped through Horribly Harmful Draughts. He knew the chance of Harry Potter drinking anything Draco gave him was fairly nonexistent. He stopped however at the Forgetful Night of Love potion, a draught that promised the willingness of even the most stubborn mind and their complete incapability to remember what they had done while under its effects. Draco's hand caressed the page, something very dark stirring inside him. He slammed the book closed and took it back to the cabinet. "I'm not desperate," he muttered.

He unlocked the cabinet, shoved the book back in place, and searched the other titles. He was having very little luck until he spotted a very small, thin book. He pulled it out. Painting Your Own Secret Room. The rumbling book had managed to squirm out an inch. Draco slapped it back into place and locked the cabinet. He read the little book very thoroughly. The strange thing about it was there was not a hint of dark magic in the pages. It was a set of instructions for enchanting a painting so that you could keep personal treasures stored safely from the effects of time. There was not a word about trying to store people. While constructing the room within the painting was very complicated, actually putting things in and out seemed to be a very simple process. Draco assumed you could get a wizard inside as long as they sat very still and made no question of what you were doing.

Draco thought he might want to reference the book again, so instead of putting it back in the cabinet, he hid it behind some very boring looking books that he doubted had been moved in the last century. Draco yelled for a house-elf. One of the miserable little creatures appeared, and he sent it to fetch the schoolbooks from his room. He would give the key back to his father later in person. While he was waiting for the creature to return, he fell asleep on one of the couches.

He had a very nice dream about Hermione Granger being chained up in a dungeon. She was begging him to let her out so she could take an exam.

_No, I'm going to kill you,_ he told her.

_All right all right, but let me take the exam first, _Hermione begged.

_Are you off your gourd?_ Draco asked, raising his wand. _I'm going to kill you._

_But you CAN'T, _she said pleadingly._ I have to tell you something._

Draco never found out what Hermione wanted to tell him. He woke up to his mother gently shaking his shoulder.

"Draco, dear, I'm starting to worry about you," Narcissa said. "I know you've been cooped up in here. You've been so good not to complain."

Draco blinked at her. All he had done this summer before the Death Eaters had arrived was complained. He had complained about not getting to go anywhere, about not getting to see anyone, about how horribly bored he was going to be, and everything else he could think of just for good measure. He had stopped...well, he had stopped because Voldemort gave him chills.

"I've got a surprise for you," Narcissa said. She reached down and picked up a racing new broom. It was silver with black straw at the end. _Timebender_ was printed in very sharp, blocky slanted letters on the side of the broom. "Top of line model this year. And look, we even had it engraved for you." Pressed in silver against silver was _Draco Malfoy - Seeker._

He looked up at her. "Mum, I may not be seeker this year." He had been the Slytherin team seeker for the past five years, but seekers were usually small and light. He had grown tall, and though he was still slim, his shoulders were filling out.

"Oh, don't worry, Draco. It will change to whatever position you're currently playing." Draco nodded. He looked at the broom longingly. His father told him to keep off his broom so he would not draw more attention to the manor. Draco thought that was rubbish. His mother had not been sent to jail, and it was no secret that Draco was here with her. It probably was more suspicious that he was not out on his broom every clear day.

"Why don't you go try it out?" Narcissa said. "Your father said it would be all right."

"Seriously?" Draco said brightly.

But he did not wait for an answer. He snatched the broom and ran for the carriage house. He dragged his set of Quidditch balls out and to the back of the manor where 3 large metal hoops were perched on high metal rods. It was not a proper Quidditch field, only one set of goals, but it was good for practice. He let the Snitch out first and chased it down two or three times. Then he swapped it out for a bat and one of the Bludgers. He thought about letting the second Bludger out, but decided that was just asking for a broken bone. After an hour or so, he wrestled the Bludger down. He tried tossing the Quaffle to himself. It was a little hard to decently practice with the Quaffle without another chaser. Normally...well, a couple of years ago, his father would have come out with him at least once a week to toss the Quaffle around.

Now, he was busy with Lord Voldemort. Now, he was not technically supposed to be out of jail. Another delightful little consequence of the service to the Dark Lord. Draco stopped, suspended in midair, and focused on his Occlumency. Those were not thoughts he should be letting out right now.

Draco was sweaty; drops were rolling out of white blonde hair into his face. He looked up and realized a light rain had started. It was time to pack it up. He dropped the Quaffle into the ball case and flew it back to the carriage house. He found a secure home for his new broom and returned to the manor through the backdoor. He knocked the mud off his shoes, careful not to trail too much into the house. The house-elves would clean up whatever he tracked in, but his mother had instilled a dislike for unintentional chaos in him early on. He kept his room both here and at Hogwarts obsessively neat.

He wandered into the kitchen and dropped into a chair. "Hotchet," he yelled for one of the house-elves. Usually you could find at least one or two hanging around the kitchen, but the house-elves had been unusually scarce since the Death Eaters arrived. The ugly creature appeared and slinked forward in a subservient, hunched position. Draco wanted to kick it for looking so miserable, but he was tired from practice.

"What would the young master like?" Hotchet asked.

"Something cold to drink," he said. "I've been practicing."

Hotchet snapped his fingers and a Cherry-lime Quidditch Cooler appeared. It was exactly what he wanted. Hotchet was one of the smarter house-elves. "Thanks," Draco said.

Hotchet stared at him as if he had just spoken Parseltongue. "What?" Draco snapped, glad his father had not been around to hear him be polite to the house-elf.

"Anything else, young master?" Hotchet managed.

"No, that's all."

Hotchet bowed and scurried away.

"How was practice, Draco?" his mother asked as she glided into the room. "Did you get wet?"

"Not too bad," Draco said.

Narcissa walked to the window and watched the rainfall with a distant expression. She was dressed in green, fitted at the waist, with a mid-length hooded red cape. Her blonde hair was down; her unlined face did not show her years. Draco thought she looked like a run away princess from a fairy tale.

He thought of the sniffling portrait in the attic and knew he had to ask her. "Mum? Who's Persephone Potter?"

Narcissa turned her head sharply in Draco's direction. "Where did you hear that name?"

"She was in the photo albums."

"Oh," Narcissa laughed. "I'd forgotten."

Draco tried not to react too much. "Was she related to Scarhead?"

"Yes," Narcissa said. "I suppose you could consider her Harry's aunt."

"But she was in Slytherin?" Draco said.

Narcissa smiled, "Oh yes, that riled James Potter something awful."

"She was in all those pictures with you and dad."

Narcissa shrugged. "She used to follow Lucius around. She wasn't the bad sort really, just hard to get rid of."

Draco was about to take a sip of his Quidditch Cooler, but he stopped short, pretty sure he would choke on it right now. "Do you think she fancied dad?"

"All the girls in school fancied your father," Narcissa said. "He was rich and handsome. Prefect, Quidditch Captain, Head boy. But there was only one of him, and he was mine."

"What was she like?" Draco said. So far it did not sound like his mother was heart broken or had been good friends with Persephone.

"Bright, I guess, but giggly. She talked too much. Thought Muggles were fascinating and Mudbloods were charity cases. Worst hair I've ever seen, you couldn't tame that mop with a hundred spells."

"Like Granger," Draco said, then focused on his Cooler.

"She wasn't that clever," Narcissa said.

"She disappeared right?" Draco said.

Narcissa ran her hand through her straight blonde hair. "Mm, hm. Poof. No one found her. Sad really," she said in bored voice that did not convince Draco of any sadness. "Broke Severus's little black heart."

"Severus...Professor Snape?" Draco gasped, making the connection from the black-haired boy in the photos to his potions master.

"Oh yes," Narcissa said her smile turning slightly cruel, which let Draco know she was enjoying the gossip. "He used to follow her around like a whipped puppy."

Draco took a drink of his cooler. Professor Snape was head of Slytherin House and had been Draco's favorite teacher at Hogwarts from the start. Snape was cool with a dark flair for the dramatic. He pushed his students hard and kept a strict but protective watch over Slytherin. He knew that his father had known Professor Snape, but they never talked about their past. He would not have pegged them as school chums. When Draco's father had come to Hogwarts to watch his Quidditch matches, he had sat next to Snape, but he could not remember them being chatty. Their manner towards each other had been warm but very formal with a subtext Draco could not read. Draco had assumed it had to do with their shared interest in the Dark Arts, and the sort of hush-hush manner such interests inspired. But it seemed that there was much more to it than he had thought.

Draco had more trouble believing that Snape was younger than his father. Lucius had aged well, but there was something worn about Snape's face that made him look much older. Draco had trouble reconciling him as a twenty-year separation from the pale but otherwise healthy looking boy in the photos.

"It was horribly ironic," Narcissa said. "The day she vanished I had just finished painting her portrait."

This was too much for Draco. His mother was not admitting making Persephone disappear. She was gloating about it. He spewed the drink he had just taken back into the cooler cup.

His mother looked at him in shock. "Draco, what's the matter?"

"F-fly in my Cooler," he stuttered.

His mother looked horrified, and Draco feared she was not completely convinced. "Draco, why-?"

Lucius Malfoy walked in at that moment. "I thought you two might like dinner in the dining room. What are you up to?"

Draco looked up at his father then back at his mother. Her expression was distraught; tears were welling in her eyes. She put on her brave face and smiled steadfastly at Lucius. "Draco was asking me about Persephone," she said.

"Oh," Lucius said in a soothing voice that understood her pain. He stroked Narcissa's hair and kissed her forehead. She sniffed, obviously comforted by this show of affection. Draco felt sick. He stared at his parents. Luckily they were looking at each other, because he was having trouble wrestling the horror and disgust off his face.

Draco looked down until he controlled himself.

"Hungry, Draco?" Lucius asked.

He was.

He followed his parents into the dining room. If Draco were in his mother's shoes, he would eat as quickly as he could and run up to the attic and check on the portrait.

One of the advantages of being a teenage boy, Draco realized is that you could eat as quickly as you wanted but no one would find it unusual. He considered shoveling his food in his mouth and racing his mother upstairs, until he realized he had an even better advantage. The advantage of slightly damp clothing. It gave you an excuse to run upstairs and change, which Draco did.

He changed quickly, and he ran to the attic afterwards. He could hear the rain tapping against the roof, and Persephone's quiet sobs.

"You're not still crying, are you?" he said.

"It may be old news to you," she said. "But I just found out that my mother, my father, and my brother are dead. And my best friends are sheltering their murderer."

"Look, just pipe down," he said. "I've got to get you out of here."

"What's it matter?" she said. "Everyone I know is dead, or they forgot or turned against me. I bet Severus is married with ten kids."

"It's not like that," Draco hissed. "Look, my father's not against you, it's my mum. I'm sure everyone can't be dead, and I know Severus isn't married."

Persephone calmed a bit. "He's not?"

"I'll tell you more later. Just shut up, so I can sneak you out of the attic."

Persephone sniffed but did it more quietly than before. Draco tossed the blanket back over her portrait and after a little deliberation found a way to carry it so that he could still move. Draco slung the portrait over his back. He carried it down the stairs, closing the hatch behind him. He hurried back to his bedchamber and propped the portrait against the wall. He checked his hair in the mirror, closed the bedroom door behind him, and raced back downstairs. He walked leisurely into the dining room and sat down.

"Took your time," Lucius said. Draco saw that they had been waiting for him to begin.

"Sorry," he said. "Had to use the toilet."

It was an awkward dinner. As Draco predicted, his mother was putting her dainty bites away as quickly as she could. Draco was trying hard not to look smug. His father seemed rather preoccupied with a Death Eater matter, and the other two were hoping he would not recognize something was off. Even so, Draco took the opportunity to ask how Potter's grandparents died. His father seemed to take this as a healthy, understand your enemy curiosity.

o

* * *

o

After dinner, he returned to his bedchamber. He barely had the door closed when Persephone started talking again.

"Are you going to get me out?" she asked.

"No," Draco said firmly. "Look, it's not that I've got anything against you, but it would put my parents in a really bad spot right now for you to show up."

"I could sneak out," she said. "Go hide in the mountains."

"No." Draco rubbed his temples. "Maybe later when things settle down, but not _now_."

Persephone did not look quite as disappointed as before, perhaps she had expected this. She leaned to one side of her portrait looking resigned. "Would you at least come talk to me?"

Draco smiled in spite of himself. "Sure," he said. He felt more at ease knowing that she was not angry with him.

Persephone smiled. "I haven't had anyone to talk to in ages."

"Me neither," Draco said softly.

There was a pounding at Draco's door. "Draco." He heard his mother call. She was trying not to sound panicked.

"Stay quiet," he hissed at the portrait and slid it under his bed. He opened the door, forcing a yawn. "Yes, mum?"

Narcissa swept into his room, looking about her as if Draco might have a banshee leaning up against one his walls. "Draco, have you been in the attic recently?"

Draco shook his head. "Not in a while, why?"

She stared at him, clearly suspecting, but not sure what to do about it.

Draco wanted to tell her it was all right. He would never betray her, never put her in danger. He hated the worried way she was looking at him, but if he said anything, he would have to tell her were the portrait was. He was not sure what she would do in her panic, but he had a feeling it would go very bad for Persephone.

They were spared the discomfort of trying to speak to each other by the appearance of Draco's father. He looked at Draco curiously but was soon drawn to Narcissa's distressed face.

"What's wrong, my dear?"

"I can't find the painting," Narcissa said. She was just as good at this half lie thing as Draco, better really, a true master. "The one I did of Persephone. It can't be gone, that would be like..."

Lucius gathered Narcissa into his arms. "There, there. It's probably up in the attic. Not hard to lose something up there. We can have the house-elves look for it."

"Yes," Narcissa said in relief. "The house-elves."

Draco felt his stomach twist a little. The house-elves would let his mother off the hook. They would find the painting. She could pretend to be so happy that she did not want to know where it had been, which would let her avoid asking Draco why he had hidden it.

His father led his mother out of the room. Draco closed the door quietly behind them. "Hotchet," he called, hoping the house-elf could hear his low summons. He did not dare raise his voice with his parents so close. "Hotchet!"

"You called, young master," Hotchet said.

"Yes," Draco said. "My mother's lost a painting of a young Slytherin girl. She wants you to look for it. I've already searched my rooms, so I do not want any of the house-elves looking through my things. In fact, I really want a bit of privacy right now, so I want the house-elves to pass over my bedroom when they're cleaning. I can take care of it. No one comes in here unless I ask for them."

Hotchet looked at Draco as if he had just spoken parseltongue and a few snakes had popped out his neck. "If that is what the young master wishes," he managed.

"It is," Draco snapped.

Hotchet bowed. He glanced under Draco's bed, and Draco got the distinct feeling he knew exactly where the portrait of Persephone was.

"Honestly," Draco said. "I-I think that portrait's probably gotten thrown out by mistake, but look thoroughly, through the attic in particular."

Hotchet looked like he was trying not to smile, and Draco did not like that. "Would you like anything else, young master?"

He wished that he could bribe the elf but knew that would be a sure tip off that he was hiding something. "No, that's all."

Hotchet snapped his fingers and vanished.

Draco leaned against his bedpost feeling relieved and exhausted. He pulled Persephone's portrait out from under the bed. She was pressing her lips together.

"Did you hear all that?"

She nodded.

Draco took down the Slytherin team logo hanging over his fireplace and moved it into the closet. He hung Persephone over the mantle. "Thank you, Draco," she said softly. "It's nice to have a friend again."

He left her to get his nightclothes out of the dresser. "I'm tired. I'm gonna go to bed." He changed in his bathroom. Persephone was not looking at him when he came out, and Draco climbed straight into bed. He lay very still on his side, feeling the first stages of sleep come over him. He glanced up at Persephone leaning against the side of the canvas, eyes closed and breathing regularly. And then Draco slept.

o

* * *

o

The next month was not so bad. Being allowed to practice Quidditch gave him an opportunity to get out of the house. He was able to exercise and breathe fresh air. The hot summer sun drove the chill from his bones. On rainy days he had Persephone to keep him company. She was a good listener, always interested, sympathetic, and supportive. Draco understood why his father had been fond of her. Persephone listened to his complaints, and in turn he told her how the world had changed. Well, bits of it anyway.

He was tempted to take her out of the painting. She would be fun to play games with, but he knew his mother's panic was not just that she might get charged with kidnapping. He was certain she had not told Lord Voldemort any more than she had told his father. Persephone's mother had died from illness, but Lord Voldemort been thorough. He or his Death Eaters had wiped out the rest of the Potter clan. Draco had not asked his father if he had had a personal hand in the matter. There were some things he would rather not know.

He was certain Voldemort would not be pleased that Narcissa had kept a Potter alive right under his nose, even if she was trapped in a painting.

The big question that pressed upon him more as the month went on was what to do with Persephone when school started. He could not keep his parents out of his room while he was gone, and he did not trust the house-elves to hide her.

o

* * *

o

It was on a rainy day in August that he made his decision.

"Only one week 'til Hogwarts," he told Persephone.

"I wish, I could go with you," she said. "I never got to take my O.W.L.s." He did not respond and continued packing his trunk.

Outside the rain beat steadily against the manor. There was a flash of lightning. A loud crash of thunder followed, and Draco's door flew open, slamming against the wall. Draco looked up wide-eyed. Lucius Malfoy was standing at the door looking very serious. The fireplace popped out about a foot from the wall. Lucius would have to come into the room to see Persephone, but he was so close that Draco could look at them both at the same time. Persephone was sliding down into her portrait so that Draco could only see her forehead and the top of her silver hair sticking up.

But Lucius was focused on Draco. He threw a folded black robe at his son, which Draco caught. "Put that on and follow me," he said in tone that would not allow refusal. Draco did as told. The robe was long, full, and black with a large hood. Draco fastened it with a silver pin in the shape of a coiled serpent with green eyes. He hurried after his father, trying not to trip over the long fabric.

His father led him into the drawing room, and Draco's heart sank. The Malfoy's drawing room was a square room with a marble floor. In the center of the floor was a large circle of metal with the Malfoy family crest. Lucius Malfoy pointed his wand at the crest. "_Aperire_!" he commanded in a soft, strong voice. The crest began to spin and drop away.

"Hood up," he said to Draco. Draco pulled the large black hood up over his head. It shadowed his face and only then did he realize that he was in the uniform of a Death Eater. Draco's heart began to beat a little faster.

Lucius descended into the dark hole that appeared in the floor, and Draco followed. There was a steep, narrow, twisted staircase that led down into a fair sized circular room. The walls of the room all had inset shelves, mostly empty from when the ministry had raided the manor a year or so ago. There had been dark magic artifacts kept in this room. Things that seemed very flashy and wondrous to a child, but nothing as nasty as the ministry had hoped to find.

The room had no doors, only the shelved walls. Lucius Malfoy pointed his wand at his own hand. "_Parvus secari_." Small cuts appeared on his father's hands and fingers. Lucius Malfoy flinched slightly, then he pressed his bleeding hand against one of the stones. He held it there for a moment then removed it and pointed his wand at it again. "_Emendo_," he said and the cuts healed themselves.

Draco hoped his father would not ask him to do the same, but Lucius said nothing to him. He pulled down his own sleeve revealing the Death Eater tattoo on his arm. The black tattoo turned red and the blood absorbed into the wall. Then the wall split. The wall of the room divided into two halves and swung back revealing a much larger chamber, with seven passages. Lucius led Draco through a tunnel to his left. The tunnel was twisted but short and ended at the top of a row of long descending steps cut out of the stone. The chamber it led down to was much larger than the first. There was a ring of candelabras around the wall. Nine of the Death Eaters formed a circle in the center of the room. The rest hovered back, some standing on the raised platform near the base of the stairs. At the far end of the chamber stood Lord Voldemort, his snake like features looking more strange, yet far more at home in the flickering candle light.

Draco's dread grew with every step. He knew these chambers existed but had never come this far. This must be some step of his initiation. Lucius led Draco into the center of the chamber. "Stand here," he murmured to him.

_Oh damn,_ Draco thought. _This is an initiation._

Lord Voldemort drew closer to Draco, his robes slithering across the ground. Lucius joined the circle that had closed around him. "Are you ready to take my mark, young Draco?"

_No_, Draco thought. The last thing on earth he wanted was that mark which would bind him directly to Voldemort. He wanted to be far away from that thing, this creature as possible, but...he could feel his fathers eyes on him, watchful and proud. He held tight to his Occlumency, closing his thought securely with its barriers. "If you believe I am ready, Dark Lord," he said, his eyes downcast.

"Do you know why I should not give you my mark, young Draco?" the Dark Lord asked.

At first, Draco thought he was looking for some personality flaw that would make Draco unworthy, but then small light of hope grew inside him. He looked up at Voldemort's slit eyes. "Because, someone would recognize it at Hogwarts," he said. "It would make me an ineffective spy."

Lord Voldemort let out a slow hiss. Draco was not sure if that was the answer he had been wanting or even something he had considered. "You have great potential," Voldemort hissed quietly. "No, you shall not gain my mark today. You will prove yourself worthy of it this year at Hogwarts."

His relief was so great that Draco wanted to jump up and down, but he simply bowed his head and allowed himself a small short smile.

"Pay attention tonight, Draco. Few are privileged to see what you see, but I desire you to understand." Voldemort motioned with his hand. The circle parted, and Draco moved for the opening. His father led him by the shoulder to the base of the stairs.

The Death Eaters started giving Voldemort reports of their nightly wanderings. Draco wondered if they had slipped in and out of the manor without him noticing or if there were other entrances to the tunnels. Then he heard the whines of distress from the top of the stairs. Two Death Eaters were urging a very frightened looking witch down the stairs. She made little begging sounds as they descended.

With a gasp, Draco recognized her. It was the Evra Tomes, the middle aged witch who kept the wizard library in Amesbury. He pulled his hood further forward to hide his face. She would recognize him. He had been inside her library more times than he could count.

"I was lost," she was blubbering. "I didn't mean to Apparate into the Malfoy manor. I was trying to visit the Muffrey's further down the road."

It was probably true, Draco thought. Every time he had come into the library, she had told him a new story about how she had Apparated into a Muggle's bus station instead of her mother's house or the Ministry of Magic in London instead of her dentist's office in Cambridge.

"We've caught a spy," the Death Eater was boasting to Lord Voldemort.

"She not a spy!" Draco snorted. "Just a confused, harmless old witch!"

No one heard Draco's protest because no sound had actually come out of his mouth. His lips had moved, but no air had escaped through them. He thought of the copy of Adventures of Young Slytherin that Evra Tomes had recommended when she heard he had been accepted into Hogwarts. _She's Harmless!_ he tried shouting again, but no sound came out. He remembered the cookies she had made for story time when he was seven.

"I'm not a spy!" Evra exclaimed. "I didn't even know where I was 'til I saw Mrs. Malfoy!"

Draco remembered the Origami snake he had made Mrs. Tomes for Christmas when he was six. His mother had enchanted it so it would slither around inside the box. Draco had never been afraid of snakes, so he had been very confused by her yelp when she opened his box. _Harmless! _he tried again, unsuccessfully.

The Death Eaters dragged her past Draco. She did not seem to recognize him, but she was in such a panic Draco doubted she would have recognized her own daughter. _Harmless._

He had learned to his chagrin later that she was terrified of snakes.

Lord Voldemort motioned her forward, and the two Death Eaters dragged her into the center.

_Harmless!_

Draco could imagine her fear at the site of Voldemort's snake like visage. She kneeled trembling in the center of the circle. "I'm not a spy," she whimpered.

"Perhaps not," Lord Voldemort said. "However that does not change what you have seen."

_Harmless! Harmless! Harmless!_

The command that the Dark Lord sent must have been through the unnatural bond of the Death Eaters tattoo. The circle raised their wands in conjunction. "_Magna Secari_," the circle cried in unison. A hundred significant cuts opened on Evra Tomes's skin and blood shot out from each of them. She screamed a loud gurgling scream, then fell to the floor.

Draco had been hovering next to the wall. He fell back against it to keep himself standing. He felt sick.

His eyes stayed open, but he no longer processed what was going on before him. The Death Eaters cleaned away the body and blood with magic. They discussed more things, but Draco understood none of it. His head was whirling. His father was standing next to him, absurdly calm. He could not get sick, not here, not now. Draco put every ounce of energy he had left into his Occlumency. His emotions seemed so loud. He was surprised the entire room was not staring at him. He clamped them tightly down. All this inner focus left his expression dull, but as long as he did not draw attention to himself that was all right.

Lucius Malfoy tapped Draco's shoulder. If Draco's body had worked, he would have jumped into the air ten feet.

"Not bored are you?" Lucius murmured, as though he could understand a teenage boys disinterest in politics.

"No," Draco replied truthfully, though he figured his eyes must have looked a bit glassy.

"Time to go" Lucius told him. Draco was too dazed to express his gratitude.

He followed his father back up the stairs and out of the passage. At some point on the way to his room, his father had wished him a good night's sleep and taken his leave. Draco numbly found his way to his bedchamber. Once he had closed the door, the horror caught up with him. He stumbled to his bed and collapsed against the post trying desperately not to get sick.

"Draco?"

He saw his trunk lying open on the floor. He pushed himself off the bed and started grabbing his belongings and shoving them into the trunk.

"Draco, are you alright?"

He had to get out of here. It did not matter where or how. He just had to get as far away from Voldemort as he could.

"Draco, what's the matter?"

He realized he was still wearing the Death Eater robes and tore them off.

"What's wrong? Draco?"

He finally realized Persephone was speaking to him and looked up at her.

"What's happened?" she asked, concern etched into her features.

He did not want to tell her about Evra Tomes. "We have to get out of here now."

"Something's gone wrong, hasn't it?"

He did not answer but stood back and pointed his wand at the portrait. "_Foras_!"

The transfer was instantaneous. One moment Persephone was in the portrait. The next she was standing before the fireplace. Fully three dimensional in her Slytherin uniform, knee length skirt and knee high socks almost touching, her silver hair sticking out at odd angles, the black outer robe making her small hands look very white. She touched her own body as if to check that it was solid. Keeping her feet firmly planted, she twisted around slowly taking the world in at three hundred sixty degrees. Then she touched the bedpost.

Draco felt slightly calmer once he saw that the spell had worked, and he had been right about the enchantment his mother had used. His new calm did not deter his determination to flee. If anything, he was more committed now than before.

He stepped forward, smiling in spite of himself at Persephone's awed expression. She looked at him and a second later, flung her arms around his neck. "Thank you so much," she breathed.

"We're not out of this yet," he said as he pulled her off. He looked at his trunk again. "This won't work."

On the other side of his fireplace was the door to his walk in closet. Draco ran inside and found a camping backpack. He hated the woods and had never used it. But it seemed far more practical for the escape that was slowly forming in his mind. A perplexed Persephone watched him quietly as he walked back into the room and started stuffing the more critical items into his travel bag. He packed his books and essential school supplies, his regular and formal dress robes, and squeezed his Quidditch uniform in on top of them. He hefted the backpack and looked about.

"Where are we going?" Persephone asked in a whisper.

"I don't know," he said. "But we might have more of a head start if I make it look like I'm going to Hogwarts."

"You had best leave a note," Persephone said.

"Of course," Draco agreed and took out some parchment and ink from his desk. He stared at it, wondering what to write. Finally he put.

_Sorry to run out. I had to have one last fling and see some friends before school started. Please send along the rest of my things. I wanted to travel light._

"That looks all right," Persephone said, reading over his shoulder. "Sign it 'Your Spy,'"

Draco wondered how she had known but realized he had told her enough about his tea with Voldemort that she could have figured that would please them. He finished the note _Your Spy, D.M._

"D.M.?"

"It's how I always sign notes to my parents."

"Oh."

"Come on," he said, heading for the door.

"Wait, if we leave your room like this, they'll know something's up."

Draco looked at his room, and saw the clothes, open trunk, torn robes, and random items strewn about the floor. He knew Persephone was right. Why the hell did he have to be so damn obsessive compulsive?

Draco and Persephone picked up the mess as efficiently as they could, but Draco could feel precious time slipping away. Maybe this was better, he tried to comfort himself. Leaving later might make them think this was a foolish but planned teenage romp rather than a panicked flight. They had the room straight in less than thirty minutes. Draco folded the torn robes as neatly as he could, hoping no one would pull them out and see the rips.

"Do you have any money?" Persephone asked as she quietly shut the lid to Draco's trunk.

Draco blinked. He must have been even more shaken than he realized. He was about to run away from home, possibly forever, and he had not so much as a Sickle in his pocket. Shaking his head, he opened the silver jewelry box on his dresser and took out all the gold Galleons inside.

He went back into his closet where he had another stash of coins. Then he opened his sock drawer, and felt for the small paper envelope taped to the top inside. There were three emeralds and two rubies inside that he knew he could exchange for coins in London.

He put most of the Galleons in the side pockets of his camping bag, put the jewel envelope and a few Galleons in his pocket, and then he gave Persephone a handful of silver Sickles to put in her pockets. The Galleons made the bag even heavier, but he knew that he would appreciate them later.

He opened the door slowly and checked the hall. It was clear. He walk slowly and quietly, worried the Death Eaters might be out looking for more spies. His own presence would be awkward but possible to explain, but Persephone's...

He tried to stay as far from the drawing room as possible as he moved his way downstairs. Persephone followed on his heels, much quieter than he thought she could have been.

_I should have scouted first,_ he rebuked himself. Then he would have better idea of what was lurking in the halls tonight.

By some miracle, they made it to the kitchen door unobserved. Draco opened it slowly.

"Need something, Master Draco?" Hotchet asked. Draco whirled. The house-elf was looking at them with a gleam in his eye. The hidden smile not so well hidden.

He was afraid to threaten, afraid to bribe, not sure where the house-elf's loyalties truly lay. "Hotchet, it's very important that you do not tell anyone you have seen us."

"But, Master Draco, I have to announce strangers."

"Hotchet!" Persephone said in a quiet but suddenly bright voice. "Don't you recognize me?"

Persephone kneeled down into the moonlight and the house-elf drew in a shocked breath. "Miss Persephone?"

"That's right," she said, smiling.

"But, you haven't aged," Hotchet said in awe. He reached up a long bony hand to touch Persephone's cheek. Draco made a face. He would not have wanted the strange little creature to touch him.

"Draco's rescuing me," she said in whisper. "I'm sure Lucius would approve, but you can understand how telling anyone that I'm here would put him in a very bad spot."

"Of course," Hotchet said. The wicked smile was replaced with a gentler expression.

"If they push you about it," Persephone said. "It's all right to tell them that Draco has left. He put a note in his room for them. It's on the desk. Just, please, forget you saw me. Tell them Draco was alone."

"I will, sweet girl," Hotchet said.

Persephone smiled at him and stood back up. Draco squeezed through door, and she followed.

"Miss Persephone," Hotchet added, and she paused. "Welcome back."

Persephone smiled more broadly and closed the door gently behind her.

Draco waited for her impatiently. The rain had subsided, merely leaving the ground rather squishy. He took her hand and dragged her toward the carriage house. The double doors were open. Cautiously, Draco peeked inside and quickly pulled his head back.

_Death Eater_, he mouthed.

Before he could stop her, Persephone peeked as well. She snapped her head back and pulled out her wand. Draco was a little surprised that she had one. It was not a proper wooden wand either, but either plated or made entirely of silver. It glinted icily in the moonlight.

"You can't, you're underage," he hissed. "There'll be an owl."

"I was born forty years ago," she breathed back. "And if there is an owl, they'll just assume it was you."

That was exactly what worried Draco. If she did something nasty to the Death Eater, he would catch the blame for it. She gave him no time to argue.

"_Disruptous_," she said pointing her wand around the corner into the carriage house. There was a clattering noise from the far end of the carriage house.

"Who's out there?" he heard the Death Eater shout gruffly, but he was shouting at the other end. The Death Eater hobbled towards the far door of the carriage house looking for the source of the sound.

Persephone repeated her spell. This time there was a large sound outside like a branch snapping. The Death Eater opened the rear door and looked outside. "_Phantonus cursus_," she whispered, and a sound like feet running on wet grass, came from far away.

"I hear you," the Death Eater said and went running out, chasing the sound.

Draco stepped into the carriage house, scanning for a second Death Eater, but did not detect one. He motioned for Persephone, and she followed him. He took out his new Timebender and stretched out his old Nimbus 2001 to Persephone. She looked horrified.

"What's wrong?"

"I've never had much luck with brooms," she said.

Draco felt panic surging back but pressed it down. He knew from the _Quidditch Quarterly_ that the Timebender was not any faster than last year's top model, but it did hold considerably more weight. It would look strange if he took both brooms anyway. He put his Nimbus down and handed Persephone the backpack.

"Put that on. You'll have to ride with me, just hold on tight."

She looked slightly less horrified at that idea. She slipped the backpack on over her shoulders. Draco mounted his broom and kicked it up to a hover. He inched forward as far as he could while still maintaining a decent grip. Persephone climbed on behind him and squeezed his waist tightly, pressing her face against his back.

Without waiting another second, Draco shot off into the darkness.


	2. The Last Summer on Privet Drive

**Disclaimer:** This story is based on the Harry Potter novels written by J.K. Rowling. The world and all the characters created by J.K. Rowling are owned by J.K. Rowling. The few characters created by me (i.e. Persephone, Hotchet, Kagome…) belong to me, but are available for use in other fics as long as I get credited as their creator. None of us are making any money off this and no infringement is intended.

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**Level 1.1: The Last Summer on Privet Drive**

Harry Potter lay on his back on his bed in the smallest bedroom of number four, Privet Drive, Little Whinging, Surrey. It was 6:00am, July 31st, Harry's birthday, and the sun was shining brightly through his window. Harry was smiling brightly as well, because this would be his last birthday at number four, Privet Drive. He was determined that it would be his best as well.

Last month, when he had returned from Hogwarts, Harry had faced his aunt and uncle with a calm reason of which he still felt extremely proud.

"Look," Harry had said. "I know you're not fond of me. I think we know I'm not particularly fond of you either. However, you did take me in instead of leaving me at an orphanage, which was kinder and more helpful than you realized. And like it or not, we are family. So, thanks for letting me stay all these years."

The Dursleys had looked at Harry in silent shock. It had been a long time since Harry had thanked them for anything. It had been a long time since they had given Harry anything to be thankful for.

"Now, as far as I'm concerned this is my last summer here. When I graduate Hogwarts in September, I will be able to live on my own. I'm sure that will make everyone happier.

"Also, after my birthday I'll be able to use magic as much as I like, and since I'll be out from the restriction of under aged wizardry, anything that happens this summer will still be fresh on my mind. So here's the deal. I will do my best to stay out of your way, and you do your best to stay out of mine."

He had actually been very surprised that his aunt and uncle stayed so still and silent while he spoke. The Dursleys must have been thinking similar thoughts, because they usually interrupted or sneered at everything Harry said.

"And I'm going to have a birthday party this year."

This had snapped the Dursleys back to their normal selves. "What?" roared Uncle Vernon. Aunt Petunia made a gasping sound and looked like she might faint.

"I'm inviting some of my friends from school, only a handful really," Harry had continued calmly.

"Not in my house!" Uncle Vernon was turning red.

"We will eat cake and spend the afternoon together. I promise nothing too wild. They'll all leave by eight."

"I'm not spending money to feed _those_ people!" Vernon was going purple.

"I figured that," said Harry. "But I won some money in a contest at school, so I'm paying for refreshments and any decorations myself."

"Not in my house!"

"Until the end of the summer, it is my house too." Harry had resisted shouting, but he let some edge seep into his voice. "I can't go anywhere, for reasons you probably wouldn't want to understand if you could, so I am taking my one day and enjoying it."

Uncle Vernon had developed a slight shake as if he were about to erupt. Harry had narrowed his eyes, which created a more chilling effect than even he realized. "If you would like to go out so you don't have to be around them, that would be fine."

Uncle Vernon had looked like he was going to choke on his own fat, puffed neck, but Aunt Petunia put a thin hand on his arm. In a very small but very clear voice she said, "I think that might be best, Vernon. There are more incidents when the boy gets angry."

Some combination of Petunia's voice and the hand had deflated Vernon. Instead of exploding, he had pointed a thick finger at Harry. "I'm warning you boy. You break anything; you'll pay double for it. If you don't, it'll be out on the street with you. I don't care what the neighbors or those people say."

"Agreed," said Harry. He had given up on the Dursleys ever being kind or even tolerant of him by their own free will. Just as he had given up on them saying "wizard" instead of "those people". At this point, he was happy to have them submit, however grudgingly, to his phantom threats. He doubted he would ever make good on any of his threats even if the Dursleys did do something awful. Bad as they were, he had met worse people and bigger threats that made the Dursleys laughable by comparison. They were only Muggles after all.

Harry did not think he was asking anything unreasonable from the Dursleys. Other than a small birthday party, all he wanted this summer was a little peace.

Because dark things were coming…

Dark things were coming for Harry specifically. After this last year at Hogwarts, Harry would no longer have the protection of the school. He would no longer be directly under the watchful eye of Headmaster Dumbledore. He would no longer have Hagrid's hut to retreat to or McGonagall's stern but steady guidance or Snape's venomous protection. Actually, Harry was sort of looking forward to being rid of Professor Snape, and he was sure Professor Snape felt the same way about him. He and Snape shared a mutual hatred that only seemed to deepen with every term.

But even darker than Professor Snape's venomous gaze was the Dark Lord Voldemort and his Death Eaters.

Harry knew Voldemort would try to kill him this year just as he had every year since Harry's eleventh birthday. He just prayed that he could have the summer off.

So far, Harry's prayers had been granted. The only shock he had gotten this summer had been from Dudley.

Harry's cousin Dudley had been waiting on the stairs when Harry had finished dictating his terms to Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon. Dudley had been unusually quiet on the way back from the train station, and Harry had wondered if he was sick. He was still a very large boy, wide enough to make the stairs impassible by standing on them, but he seemed to have dropped thirty or forty pounds since Harry had last seen him.

Harry had looked at Dudley impatiently, wondering how long he planned to block the stairway. Dudley had stared back at Harry with a nervous but steeled look as though he were about to do something very brave.

"Can I-" Dudley began in a voice that was barely audible. "Can I come to your party?"

Harry jerked back, not sure what to make of the question. History advised that Dudley was making fun of Harry or was plotting some disaster for the party, though that level of cunning was a bit of a stretch for his cousin. However Dudley's voice was carrying a tone Harry did not think he had heard before, not from his cousin, not directed at him.

"I'll think about it," said Harry, and Dudley had moved aside to let Harry go up the steps.

Harry had thought about it. He had decided to let Dudley come for two reasons. One, Dudley had his aunt and uncle wrapped around his thick little finger, and they were less likely to object to the party if Dudley wanted it. Two, Dudley had been acting very strange. He was being polite to Harry, even kind. Harry had kept checking his sneakoscope, a very useful device Ron had given him that went off around untrustworthy people, but it was not reacting to Dudley's new behavior.

Dudley had even given Harry his old television. Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon had bought Dudley a new, larger television for his birthday. Harry was used to getting Dudley's old things, but it was rare that he got them in fully working condition. And Dudley had never given him something as nice as that television. Harry had never been a huge fan of TV. Normally one of the Dursleys kept control of the remote, usually Dudley, and Harry often did not share Dudley's taste in programs. But the television had provided some nice distractions from his very boring life on Privet Drive.

His aunt and uncle, disagreeable as they were, had not required Harry to stay at home all day. He was allowed to wander as far as his legs could take him, but more than once, Harry had been attacked by dark wizards or other things under Voldemort's influence during his neighborhood wanderings. He still had to wait for his birthday before he would be out from the underage wizarding ban and able to fight back without getting an owl from the Ministry of Magic. Harry had made a few enemies at the Ministry during the last couple of years, some of whom would be all too happy to snap his wand. He had decided to play it safe and not leave the house unless it was necessary. Within these walls, he was protected by blood magic, a shield the Dursleys unintentionally created by taking him into their home.

Dudley was staying unusually busy this summer. Normally he spent his time watching TV and roaming the neighborhood with his gang. This summer, however, Dudley visited the gym everyday and prodded Uncle Vernon to give him driving lessons on the weekends. Dudley seemed very anxious to learn how to drive, which Harry guessed was a normal interest for a normal seventeen year old boy. Harry had no interest in cars. After riding his broomstick, he thought driving a car looked extremely boring. When Dudley was not at the gym, learning to drive or with his friends, he locked himself up in his room. Harry had finally figured out that he spent this time on the telephone, but Dudley had not volunteered who he was talking to.

Dudley had made a few attempts to spend time with Harry, which was extremely unusual as well. Normally, he spent his summers avoiding Harry as much as possible. He still did not seem completely comfortable in his cousin's company. But he had spent one evening in Harry's room watching television and nervously asking Harry to explain Quidditch. Dudley was not able to completely grasp the concept. The Golden Snitch in particular confused him, but Harry enjoyed talking about his favorite sport anyway. Dudley had even invited Harry to join him at the gym one day, but Harry excused himself.

Harry was completely baffled by the change in Dudley and a little frustrated that his cousin had not started acting this human sixteen years ago. He had gotten his first clue as to the reason for this change last night. Dudley had knocked on Harry's bedroom door. He had a shy expression, which looked absurdly out of place juxtaposed with his large frame.

"Um, Harry," said Dudley in a quiet voice. "Do you think I could bring a date to your party?"

"You've got a girlfriend?" Harry was only partially successful at suppressing his laugh. Dudley's face had gone pink. Harry punched his shoulder playfully. It was the first time he had ever felt safe doing that. "Good for you, Big D." Dudley turned red. Harry hesitated a few minutes before agreeing that Dudley's girlfriend could come. It would mean another Muggle at the party, and his friends would need to guard their conversations. But Harry thought that was better than risking Dudley's ire, and he was a little curious to see what sort of girl would willingly date a lump like his cousin.

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And now, it was Harry's birthday. That was not the only reason he was smiling brightly. His Hogwarts letter had come last week, and it had been hard not to smile after that.

Around 8am, Harry got tired of lying in bed. He got up, dressed, brushed his hair and teeth, and ran downstairs for a spot of breakfast.

Around 10, Dudley's girlfriend arrived. She had volunteered to help with setup. Dudley introduced her as Judith. She was a tall girl, taller than Harry. She was thickset but healthy looking. Her hair was reddish brown in tight curls she had pulled back into a ponytail that fell just past her shoulders. Harry would not consider her pretty exactly, but she was pleasant to look at. Far too good for Dudley, and Dudley seemed to know it.

"Hello, Harry," said Judith, taking his hand and giving it a firm shake. "I've been wanting to meet you."

Judith greeted the Dursleys in the kitchen. Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia seemed uncertain about her, but unable to find any objections to her solid normality. Harry doubted she would have paid much attention if they had objected to her. She stood at the counter and discussed food for the party with Harry and Dudley. During the discussion, Harry learned that she was a fan of Dudley's boxing, which was how they had met, and that she was on a girls boxing team. Judith had lost her cousin in a car accident earlier that year and thought that Dudley and Harry were incredibly lucky to have been able to grow up together. Harry guessed this was the source of Dudley's changed attitude towards him.

Around 11, Judith learned that they did not have enough appropriate food in the house and took Dudley to walk her to the nearby market. Harry worried that she would ask him to go as well, but she told him to stay put and relax since he was the "birthday boy."

Around noon, Judith and Dudley returned with bags full of snacks, sodas, candy, and cake mix, and Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon left to "eat and run errands." Judith set up in the kitchen to bake the cake, leaving Harry and Dudley to decorate.

"I'm not quite sure how things should go," said Harry. "I've never had a proper birthday party before."

"You never what?" Judith exclaimed, looking truly scandalized. "But Dudley told me his mother spoiled him rotten on his birthdays." She must have assumed this applied to Harry as well. Dudley looked guiltily and pleadingly at Harry.

"I mean I've never had to decorate for a party before," Harry amended. Dudley's improved attitude this summer had left him feeling generous, even if it all had been to impress his girl.

Judith rolled her eyes. "Boys," she said, and proceeded to give them directions on where to place everything from the kitchen. There was a box full of left over balloons and streamers from one of Dudley's parties stored in the cupboard. They dusted it off, and Dudley and Harry blew up balloons until Harry felt light headed. The smell of the cake baking from the kitchen revived him. They taped up the streamers, while Judith spread the frosting.

At 1pm exactly, the doorbell rang. Harry opened the door. Dean Thomas had arrived with Hermione and Seamus Finnigan. They had come in Dean's car. Harry had asked everyone to come Muggle style so as not to upset the Dursleys.

"Happy birthday, Harry!" said Hermione, flinging her arms around him. Dean and Seamus simply shook his hand and handed him wrapped boxes.

Harry led them into the kitchen and set the gifts on the table. "This is my cousin, Dudley," he said. "And this is Judith."

"Is that your girlfriend, Harry?" asked Judith.

To Harry's surprise, Hermione blushed. "No, we're just friends." Hermione extended her hand to Judith. "Hermione Granger. This is Dean Thomas and Seamus Finnigan. We go to school with Harry."

Judith looked puzzled. "I thought you went to an all boys school, Harry. St. Brutus's wasn't it?" Dudley looked panicked again.

"Um, yeah," Harry said, looking for a creative explanation. "It used to be, but we integrated."

Judith accepted this and encouraged them all to grab snacks, and Harry sat down with Hermione on the couch. "I didn't realize you were going to have Muggles here," Hermione whispered.

"Well, I didn't plan on it," Harry said. "But Judith's all right. I can't believe Dudley's got himself a girlfriend."

"He doesn't quite seem to fit your description of him," said Hermione.

"I know," said Harry and told Hermione about Dudley's new behavior.

He caught part of the second conversation in the room. "Yeah, Harry's the best player on the team," Seamus was telling Judith. "Well, when he can stay on. He hasn't got the best luck on the Quidditch field."

"The what?" Judith asked, and Harry's alarms went off.

"He means the football field," Dean came in with a nice save. "Some old guy named Quidditch donated funds to the team."

"Oh," Judith said with great interest. "Dudley never told me you played football, Harry."

Dean, who was still an avid football fan, launched into a discussion about professional teams that distracted Judith from asking further questions.

An hour later, the Weasleys arrived in a cab. Fred, George, Ron, and Ginny spilled in through the front door. They overwhelmed Harry with "happy birthdays" and packages. He felt like he was swimming in a sea of red hair. Before he could warn them about Judith, she came to the door. "Egads, there's Muggles!" exclaimed Fred.

"What!" Judith started.

George elbowed his twin. "Don't mind him. He got the looks. I got the brains. Oh…wait a minute."

There was a fresh slew of introductions, and the group flowed back into the kitchen. As time passed, Harry felt less anxious. Judith looked at home, though Dudley seemed nervous to have so many wizards around. Fred and George were resisting the urge to Muggle bait them. Harry could tell it was hard for them and felt very grateful. Judith became very interested in their joke shop, and they spent their energy concocting appropriate Muggle answers to her questions.

"Is that really your cousin?" Ron asked Harry. "I thought he was bigger."

Harry smiled broadly. "Now that everyone's here, I want to show you something. Look what came with my Hogwarts letter!" He reached into his pocket and held up the shiny badge.

"Well done, Harry!" shouted the twins.

"Wicked!" cried Ron.

"Congratulations, Harry!" shouted Ginny.

"You're Head Boy?" Hermione gasped.

"Oh, good job, Harry!" Judith beamed at him. Dudley gaped. The Dursleys never asked Harry how he did at Hogwarts, and they probably assumed the worst of him. Dudley would certainly never make Head Boy.

"Anyone know who Head Girl is?" Harry asked, glancing at Hermione.

He expected her to smugly pull out her own badge, but she looked glum. "Padma Patil."

"Rotten luck," said Harry. "You deserved it."

"Thanks," Hermione said, comforted a little and trying to look noble. "But Padma's really an excellent girl, you know."

"That's not what you said in the car," Dean announced from across the room. "Hermione griped about it all the way from London."

"She wrote me an essay about why Padma shouldn't have got it," Ron added. "Pigwidgeon almost passed out from exhaustion carrying the scroll." Hermione glared at them both in turn.

Ginny patted Hermione's shoulder sympathetically. "Well, I think you deserved it. Padma's a bit too stuck up already."

"Anyway, congratulations, Harry," Hermione said to shift the attention off herself.

Harry was glad to take it back. Dumbledore had not given Harry the prefect position because he thought it was putting too much of an extra burden on him. He had assumed this would extend to the Head Boy honor as well, but Dumbledore seemed to think Harry deserved some recognition for all he had done. Fred insisted Harry wear his badge on his shirt instead of returning it to his pocket.

Hermione managed to forget her disappointment and got some punch that Judith had conjured out of ice, fruit juice, and ginger ale.

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Around 3, Judith lit the candles on the birthday cake. It had "Happy Birthday Harry" written on it in green icing. Harry made a wish, a very big one, and blew out the candles. He almost hated to cut the cake, but that was supposed to be part of the experience.

By 4, Harry was ready to declare his party a success. His guests were full of cake, conversation was buzzing, and the Weasley twins had stuck to deflating Harry's balloon in the nosiest way they could find, instead of pulling out the magical party favors that he was sure they had stuffed in their pockets.

At 5:17, everything fell apart. A car horn blew three consecutive blasts from outside. Dudley went to the window to look. Harry lay back in the recliner, watching Ron and Hermione debate the merits of cats over owls and visa versa and blissfully unaware of the danger approaching.

"Oh, no," Dudley groaned. "It's Aunt Marge."

"What!" Harry exclaimed. He jumped to his feet to look out the window with Dudley.

"And she's got Ripper," Dudley continued. "I hate that dog!"

Harry hated that dog too, almost as much as he hated Aunt Marge. "Maybe we can pretend that we're not home," he suggested.

"Too late," said Dudley. "She's seen Dean's car."

Harry smacked his fist against the wall.

"What's wrong, Harry?" asked Hermione.

"It's my Aunt Marge."

"We don't like Aunt Marge?" Judith asked.

"She's got a suitcase!" Dudley exclaimed in disgust. "She didn't even call!"

"We could dispose of her," Fred and George offered rolling up their sleeves. Judith watched them apprehensively.

"Better not," Harry said. The doorbell rang. "You better get it, Dudley. If you don't, she'll have the police out."

"Mum's gonna be furious," Dudley muttered. He went to the door, Judith at his heels. The rest of the guests waited quietly.

Marge burst in when Dudley opened the door, Ripper trotting eagerly at her feet.

"Um, hello, Aunt Marge," Dudley began.

"Oh, my Duddly-poo! So good to see you boy. I'm in an awful state. Where's Vernon?"

"He's not home," Dudley told her. He tottered slightly as she thrust the suitcase into his arms.

"Not home?" Aunt Marge said indignantly. "Who's car is that then?"

"It would be mine," Dean called from the kitchen.

Marge's face fell. "What's that darkie doing here?" she muttered to Dudley.

Dudley looked very embarrassed. Even some of the boys in his old gang had been black. Harry just felt angry. His fists clenched, and he hoped Dean had not been able to hear Marge. Judith's mouth was wide open. Dudley looked to her for a diversion. "Um, this is my girlfriend, Aunt Marge," Dudley said.

"Oh, hello, dear," Marge said in a tone that was almost pleasant. Then she caught sight of Harry. "What are you still doing here? I thought you'd moved out!"

"That's next summer, Aunt Marge," said Harry, trying to control his rage. The Ministry of Magic had erased Aunt Marge's memories of being inflated and bobbing across Surrey. Harry could not afford to blow her up again. He needed his magic for bigger enemies.

Aunt Marge growled. "Well, the guest room's still open, I'll assume. Take my bag up. Where's Petunia?"

"She's out, Aunt Marge," said Dudley. Judith looked at Harry with eyes as wide as saucers. Seamus was pulling out his wand. Harry motioned at him to put it down. Seamus narrowed his eyes but laid the wand on the counter. Harry stepped forward to get the suitcase. Maybe if he could persuade her to go upstairs and lie down…

"What do you mean, she's out? What's all this?" Aunt Marge finally took in the decorations and the crowd gathering to stare at her from the next room.

"I-I'm having a party," said Dudley.

Marge shoved her way into the kitchen. "A party!" Marge huffed. "Without your parents? Who's chaperoning?"

"They went out to dinner. They thought I was old enough…" Dudley tried.

"Nonsense," Marge barked. "This is the age where you lot get in the most trouble." She waved a fat finger at Hermione. "You're all in heat. Girls at this age don't have any sense." Hermione glowered at her in return. Ginny looked slightly amused to see someone accuse Hermione of not having sense. Judith was clenching her fists. "Well, good thing for Vernon that I'm here! You can carry on Dudley, but I'm keeping an eye on things." Ripper growled at their feet as though to say he was keeping watch as well, then he trod into the kitchen after Marge.

Harry worked very hard to control his anger. He tried to focus on the small comfort of knowing that everyone else hated Marge too, even the other Muggles. It was just like her to ruin his party, but maybe if they continued to let her think it was Dudley's…

"What's this?" Aunt Marge said, picking up Seamus's wand. She made a "humph" sound and tossed it to Ripper as though it were a common stick. Ripper pounced on the wand happily and began to chew it.

"Hey!" Seamus cried. Her tried to push his way around the counter to get his wand, but Aunt Marge blocked him with her bulk and pushed him back.

"Don't shove me, young man," she said in a warning tone.

Ginny let out a shocked yelp. They all turned to look at her and then followed her shocked gaze. Where the dog had been, there was now a black robed man down on his hands and knees, twitching and growling like a bulldog. Judith let out a surprisingly high-pitched scream and clamped her hands over her mouth. Harry rushed back into the kitchen. The man got to his feet, taking Seamus's wand in his hand. He was tall and robed all in black with a tall black hat. He was thin with scraggly black hair and a sneering lip. He reminded Harry of Professor Snape, only Snape had better fashion sense. Unlike Professor Snape, the man's skin was tanned a dark brown and covered with nasty looking black tattoos, and he looked and smelled like he hadn't had a bath in weeks.

"Well, that's better," he said in a voice like a bulldog's growl. "Do you know I've been stuck as a dog for nine years?" He pointed at Aunt Marge who was white and stone still, her head squished back into her neck rolls. "Bitch was supposed to give me to you as a birthday present, Harry. Decided to keep me for herself instead." He took a few steps towards Harry, smiling nastily. "Can't say no harm done, but it's good to see you, boy."

He reached out, grabbed Harry by the neck with one hand, and shoved him against the wall. With the other hand, he held the wand up. "Pity we missed the party," he snarled.

"_Expelliarmus!_" the Weasley twins shouted, their own wands out and raised high. The dark wizard was knocked back into the kitchen. Seamus's wand flew out of his hand, and Seamus lunged for it. The dark wizard scrambled to his feet to make another lunge at Harry. Judith stepped through the door and gave the wizard a lovely right hook that sent him to the ground. "_Stupefy!_" Fred cast the stunning charm on the prone figure. George kicked the dark wizard. When he didn't react, the twins each took one of his arms.

"Sorry to run, Harry," George said.

"But I think we should get this bloke back to the Ministry," Fred finished.

Then they both Disapparated, vanishing along with the dark wizard.

"Eww, it's covered in dog drool," Seamus grimaced and looked about for something to clean his wand.

"Harry, are you all right?" Hermione asked.

"Do you think that was a Death Eater?" Ginny squealed.

"Well, he's definitely a wannabe if not a full fledged member!" Ron shot back at her.

"What the devil is going on?" Judith asked Harry, and everyone fell quiet. Dudley looked like he might be sick.

Harry rubbed his sore throat. "I don't exactly go to St. Brutus's."

o

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o

As they waited for the Ministry representative to turn up to erase Aunt Marge's memory again, Harry tried to explain things to Judith. She continued to look very confused, but she had enough presence of mind to move and ask questions. Aunt Marge on the other hand remained frozen in shock. Harry wondered if she had had a heart attack and died standing up, but he did not want to dig his fingers into the fat rolls on her neck to check. Ginny claimed Marge was still breathing. The Ministry representative appeared and performed a memory charm on Marge. Harry recommended that she be taken to the guest bedroom and given a sleeping potion. When the representative finished with Marge, he turned to Judith.

"Are you going to erase my memory too?" she asked.

Harry felt very guilty. He liked Judith. She was a pleasant sort of Muggle, but he also understood the need for secrecy. "Do you mind?" he asked.

"Well, I suppose not," said Judith. Her face said that she did mind but understood there were more important things at stake than her memory. "But just blot out the magic part, if you don't mind, not the whole afternoon."

"I'll do my best," the representative said. He performed the charm on Judith and Disapparated.

Dudley hovered over Judith worriedly. They all did. After a moment, Judith blinked and looked at them strangely.

"Are you all right?" asked Harry.

"You looked like you were going to faint," said Hermione.

"I'm all right," said Judith, rubbing her forehead. "Maybe a little woozy." Dudley brought her a glass of water, and she sipped it. "Where are the twins?"

"They had to run," said Harry, feeling very disgusted with himself.

His friends stayed until after seven, but the spirit of the party had died down. Judith seemed to think her dizzy spell was the cause and guiltily insisted she was fine. When Dean decided it was time to go, Hermione asked Harry if he wanted her to stay.

"No, go ahead, your parents will worry," Harry told her. "Besides I told Uncle Vernon everyone would be gone by eight."

Hermione looked very concerned. "Are you sure you're all right?"

"Oh yeah," Harry said. "Just wouldn't be summer vacation without someone trying to kill me."

Ginny and Ron squeezed into Dean's car as well. They could get home from Dean's house by floo powder.

"See you soon, mate," Ron said as he stepped out the front door. "You can come stay with us if you need to."

Harry nodded. He felt safer at Ron's home. At least, he had never been attacked there. Maybe this blood magic stuff had worn off, since he turned seventeen. He decided to send a message to Dumbledore for instructions. Judith called her parents and left shortly after the rest. Dudley waved goodbye to her and turned to Harry.

"So, what do you think of her?" asked Dudley.

Harry gave him a tired smile. "I like her. I think she's good for you, Big D."

Dudley blushed and smiled, but then the smile melted into a frown. "Why was that weirdo after you anyway?"

"Same reason everything else comes after me," said Harry. He didn't feel like explaining his entire history. Dudley must not have been too curious, or maybe he was simply overwhelmed. He excused himself and went to bed.

Harry went back into the kitchen to put away the leftover food and clean up the balloons and streamers before Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon got back. It hit him as he slid the leftover punch into the refrigerator, that he was SEVENTEEN. He was no longer underage and could do magic as much as he pleased. He cleaned up the rest of the mess with a variety of magic spells, which made the work loads more fun. He left the kitchen and living room so sparkling even Aunt Petunia could not complain.

All in all, attack by dark wizard included, it had been Harry's best birthday ever.


	3. The Long Way to London

**Disclaimer:** This story is based on the Harry Potter novels written by J.K. Rowling. All characters created by J.K. Rowling are owned by J.K. Rowling. The few characters created by me (i.e. Persephone, Hotchet, Kagome…) belong to me, but are available for use in other fics as long as I get credited as their creator. None of us are making any money off this and no infringement is intended.

o

* * *

o

**Level 2.2: The Long Way to London**

The wind whistled past Draco's ears. Flying was normally a very comfortable thing to him. He felt at ease in the air and at home on his broom. Normally, he did not have a scared sixteen-year-old girl clinging with a death grip around his middle. Normally, he was not fleeing for his life. The addition of a second person threw off the balance of the broom, and Draco found it harder than usual to keep control as he dodged the trees he was trying to hide amongst. It probably would have been easier if he had not been pushing the broom to its top speed or if he had waited for daylight. Thin branches slapped him as he evaded the larger ones. As the trees became denser, he took the broom up to skim the treetops. Persephone twinged as a jutting branch caught her leg, but Draco did not dare pull higher until they were at least a mile away.

When he felt safe and completely lost, he slowed the broom, so that he could hover a few hundred feet in the air. "Do you see any one following us?" he asked Persephone.

"No," she replied, not relaxing her grip one bit. "But I have my eyes shut."

Draco laughed. The flight had his blood pumping, and he felt a little braver. They had escaped, but where to now? He wished he could Apparate. If he could get to London, he could get transportation to anywhere. But he could never fly that far in one night, and he knew better than to fly in the daytime when Muggles might see. "Any ideas on getting to London?"

"Where are we?" Persephone asked.

"Wiltshire, not far from Amesbury."

"Train."

"There's a wizards express in Amesbury to London, but I think there's too many people there who would recognize me. It's close enough that father could Apparate there and drag me back home."

"We could travel like Muggles," Persephone suggested. "We'll need Muggle money though."

"I don't have any." Draco did not like the idea of traveling like a Muggle. It sounded dirty to him. He considered flying by night and attempting that camping thing by day. But he knew he would be at great risk of being seen that way. They were in the country now, but if he flew too close to a town even in the dark, the Ministry might get involved. His mother would be contacted, and things would just get worse from there. The more he thought about it, the more he came to think traveling like a Muggle was what he least wanted to do, therefore what he was least likely to do, and therefore the best way to hide from other wizards. "There's an exchange in Newbury," he said finally.

Newbury was in the general direction of London anyway. The wizarding community was small, and he had only been there once when he was much younger. "Hang tight," he told Persephone unnecessarily. She whimpered as they gained speed.

When the first hint of dawn broke, Draco set down the broom in a small clearing. Persephone must have opened her eyes at some point, because she hopped off the broom before Draco could say a word to her. She shifted the bag on her shoulders and rubbed the small of her back. Draco messaged his midsection. "I think you squeezed my kidneys together."

"Sorry," Persephone said, still fooling with the backpack.

"Give it here," Draco said. She handed him the pack, and he put it on his own shoulders. He slung the _Timebender_ over his shoulder to keep it off the ground. Persephone giggled. "What?"

"You look like a chimney sweep."

Draco rolled his eyes. He looked about him, trying to decide what direction to take. There was a whirring noise just beyond the trees to his right.

"Is that an auto?" Persephone said, then dashed through the thicket. Draco groaned and hurried after her. It was an automobile, several in fact. Beyond the trees was a highway. Two-ton monsters thundered past, their headlights still blazing in the dim early morning.

"I was following those lights," Draco said. "I think if we follow the road it will take us to Newbury."

Neither of them was excited by the prospect of walking anywhere. After half a mile, Persephone stopped and stuck out her thumb. "What are you doing?" Draco asked.

"We're hitchhiking."

"What's that mean?"

"It means we try to get someone to stop and give us a ride into town."

"I am not riding with strange Muggles!"

But even as Draco objected, a burgundy car pulled over to the side of the road and stopped in front of Persephone. The driver side window rolled down. A very boring looking woman stuck her head out. "Are you in trouble?"

Persephone stepped up to the car happily, and the woman pulled her head back inside. "Just a little bit," she said. "Could you give us a ride into town?"

"Why, you're just a little girl!" the woman exclaimed. Draco stepped forward, and the woman looked him up and down as well. Persephone's hair was windblown and wilder than usual. Her knee-highs were torn, and her legs had scratches from when they had flown through the trees earlier. Draco imagined that he looked worse. "My goodness, what's happened to you?"

Persephone gave a long sigh, as if to say that the story was far too complicated to begin. "We're just trying to get home."

"Well, come on, hope in. I can't leave you on the side of the road."

Persephone smiled and opened the back door of the car. Draco grabbed her arm. "Are you mad?"

"Relax, they're not going to hurt us," she said, and with her free hand she indicated her pocketed wand. Draco relaxed his grip, and she slipped into the car. He followed her, a thousand alarms going off in his head. It was awkward fitting the broom into the backseat, but somehow he managed it. Draco wondered why a Muggle would pick up two bedraggled strangers. He saw a large burly man in the front passenger seat and decided he must have been the reason for her courage.

"Thank you so much," Persephone said as the car started down the road again.

"What are you kids doing out here?" the burly man asked.

"We're coming back from a concert," Persephone said.

"Ah," the man said. "I was wondering about the outfits. What band did you go see?"

Persephone glanced at Draco's broom. "The Timebenders."

"Haven't heard of them," the woman said. Before Draco could worry, she laughed. "Of course it's so hard to keep up with all the things you kids are into. Where in Newbury are you going?"

"Braunfels Walk," Draco said. "It's off Craven Road."

"We can drop you off at Craven," the woman said.

"Buckle up," Persephone hissed at him.

"What?" Draco frowned.

"Your seatbelt."

"My what?"

Persephone reached across Draco, pulled a strap over his lap, and fastened it on the other side. He started to object but saw that she had a strap across her lap as well. The silver haired girl lay back in the car seat. She looked nearly as exhausted as Draco felt. He stared out the window. It was his first time to ride in a Muggle automobile, but it did nothing to excite him. The car was cramped, and the ride bumpy. At least on the Hogwart's express, he could stretch his legs. The scenery was better too. The Muggles kept asking them semi-personal questions. To Draco's relief, Persephone answered them. She seemed more comfortable talking to the Muggles than he did.

After an eternity that smelled like old cabbage, the car stopped and let them out on Craven Road. It was another long walk to the end of Craven Road and a left turn onto Braunfels Walk. Then it was a shorter walk to a house that looked very similar to all the other houses on Braunfels Walk, only this one had a very obnoxious blue flamingo yard ornament. Draco approached the front door. He flipped the welcome mat over so that only "come" was visible. The door to the house changed very subtly. The doorknob vanished from the right side and appeared on the left. Draco opened it and stepped into the small wizard's shop.

A disreputable looking man with stringy hair peeking out from under his cap waved them in. The door shut behind them. "Well, Hogwarts students," he said, eying Persephone's school robes. "Don't get you in often. Must be friends of the Creeveys."

Draco wrinkled his nose. The only Creeveys he knew where a couple of Gryffindor Mudblood brothers. They were both short, overly excitable, and annoying. "You still do currency exchange?" he asked instead of answering.

"Sure," the unpleasant looking man said. He was still watching Persephone who was making a close examination of everything in the shop. It had selection of all the ordinary things that wizards needed along with some odd items. There were basic potion ingredients, copies of the _Dailey Prophet_, popular candies, and developing fluids. "You two look a little worse for wear. I've got a tonic that would fix you right up."

"No thank you," Draco said firmly, not interested in drinking anything this man gave him. "I just want to make an exchange."

"Well how much?"

"Persephone, how much?" He did not have a clue how much a Muggle train ride cost or what was fair exchange. Persephone skipped over.

"Hm?"

"How much do you think we need?"

"Oh, I'm not sure exactly," she said. "What with inflation and all…um, I think 50 Galleons would be on the safe side."

Draco fished the money out reluctantly. That was nearly half his Galleons. He reminded himself about the jewels safely in his pocket and spilled the gold on the counter.

"Pounds or Euros?"

"Um…pounds."

The man started to stack the coins.

"These too," Persephone said adding her sickles to the pile. "Oh, and Draco, can we get these?" She held up a package of Bertie Botts Every Flavor Beans. "I'm starving."

"Those are disgusting," Draco said. "You know they make old sock and horseradish."

"You ain't Draco _Malfoy_ are you?" the strange man behind the counter said rubbing his chin.

A month ago Draco might have been flattered to be recognized, but now he just felt distressed. "Of course not," he said, and dropped the Bertie Botts on the counter with the rest. "Just ring it all up." The man sniffed but did as asked.

They left the shop with the beans and a large roll of pound notes, which Draco gave to Persephone to manage. "Want one?" Persephone asked, offering him the beans.

"No, thanks," Draco said. "I want some real food."

Persephone shrugged and popped a bean in her mouth. "Mmm, chocolate." She popped another bean in her mouth. "Do you know I haven't eaten in twenty years? No, wonder I'm hungry." She popped another bean. "Oh, it's so good to taste things again."

"What was that last one?"

"Haggis I think," she frowned slightly. "You know I hate haggis, but you never realize how much you miss the things you hate. You know?"

Draco shook his head. They had passed some place advertising meals on their way here, and he wanted to get back to it. As they got out of the neighborhood and into the business center, Draco noticed more and more Muggles stare at them. "What's their problem?"

"Well, we both look pretty awful, right now, and most Muggles don't strut around the street with a broom perched on their shoulder."

"What am I supposed to do with it?" Draco felt exasperated. He was not giving up his _Timebende_r, but he knew it was like waving around a big flag that said "Wizard".

"Just hold onto it," Persephone said soothingly. "We'll find a cover or something." Down the next street, she stopped and pointed at an unimpressive looking shop. "That's what we need."

It was a second hand store. "You must be joking," Draco snorted, but Persephone was already running into the shop. Draco slid apprehensively into the store trying not to touch anything. Persephone was rifling through racks of old clothes, and Draco realized she was looking for disguises. "But Muggles wore this stuff!" he pleaded with in a low voice.

"That's the point!" she retorted. "Don't worry, I'm sure everything's been cleaned."

Draco was not so sure. He had been in a few Muggle clothing shops before with his mother, but they had all been much cleaner than this. The walls badly wanted fresh paint, and there was a strange smell he could not pin down. Persephone held up a very common looking white shirt with short sleeves and the words "MASS TRANSIT" printed in black. "What the devil-?"

"T-shirt and jeans," she said. "Classic Muggle." She handed him the shirt and some rough blue trousers and flagged down the girl at the cash register. "Miss, can he try these on?"

"Yeah, in there," the girl replied with disinterest. She was engrossed in a magazine half hidden under the counter.

She had indicated a small niche with a bench and a curtain. Draco propped his broom beside it and pulled the curtain closed. He changed into the Muggle clothes. They were uncomfortable, but they fit. He pulled the curtain back.

"Looks like it fits, alright," the girl at the counter commented, looking up from her magazine. Her expression changed. "Did you get in a fight?"

Draco looked at himself in a small mirror on the counter. His face was dirty and scratched from plowing through the branches. He tried to put his hair back in order with his hands and found a small twig clinging to the strands. "Wipe?" she asked, stretching out a small damp cloth to him. It smelled slightly unpleasant, but he tried it anyway. Whatever fluid was in the cloth stung his scrapes, but it did get most of the dirt off. He wadded it up, the white cloth now brown, and held it out to the register girl. She looked at the wipe apprehensively and picked up a small waste paper basket. She held it out to Draco, and he tossed the wipe inside.

Draco turned to Persephone who had a bundle of clothes in her arms now. "Do I have to wear this?" he hissed.

"If you want to blend in," Persephone whispered back, and then she disappeared into the dressing room.

"Blend in?" he said to the curtain. "Have you looked in the mirror? How are we supposed to manage that?"

"I've got it covered," Persephone said. After a few minutes, she pulled the curtain back. She was also dressed in blue jeans only where Draco's T-shirt fit; her large pink one swallowed her. She had topped the T-shirt with a loose woven black vest, and she waved something woven and black with bright colored specs at Draco. "Do you have any hair pins?" she asked the register girl.

The register girl stared at Persephone as if she had not seen her before. Maybe she had been too engrossed in her magazine. "Uh, sure." She rifled behind the counter and pulled out a handful of large hairpins. Persephone thanked her and used the small mirror on the counter to pin her hair down as best she could. She managed to stuff the whole mess into the woven thing, which seemed to be a hat of sorts, and used the last two pins to keep the hat in place. The sales girl watched her in guilty fascination. Persephone looked up at her, and she blurted, "Is that your real eye color?"

Persephone looked a little uncomfortable. "Um, yeah."

"Wicked!" the register girl exclaimed.

Draco tapped his foot impatiently and crossed his arms. Having them bare made him feel exposed and self-conscious.

"You know what you need," the register girl said, turning her attention on him. She grabbed a hanger off the rack, which held a black jacket. It had long sleeves, and she thrust it at him, so Draco tried it on.

Persephone laughed, "That's perfect."

"Like a blonde James Dean," the register girl laughed with her.

Draco liked the jacket because it was lightweight and felt more like a proper robe than the T-shirt, but the girls' laughter was making him more uncomfortable.

"Can we wear these out?" Persephone asked.

"Yeah, just let me ring them up."

"One more thing," Persephone said. She pulled out a long bag with a bloated base from a pile of used suitcases.

"What is it?" He asked.

"I think it's a case for a banjo, but we can put your broom in it." She unzipped the fabric and stuffed the broom inside cushioning it with the robes they had been wearing.

"It sticks out the top," Draco said.

Persephone shrugged. "It's better than nothing."

The register girl, who was looking at them even more strangely now that she had noticed the broom, rang up their purchase. Persephone handed over a few pound notes, and they left the shop.

"Couldn't we have gotten new clothes?" Draco griped as they walked down the street. He felt far more uncomfortable than he had when they had gone into the shop, but he noticed that fewer people were staring at them. Persephone had taken the camping bag and left him with the odd shaped one holding his broom.

"Yes," Persephone said. "But then we wouldn't have as much money left over. We still have to get to London. And eat. I'm starving, aren't you?"

"Yeah," Draco said. His stomach was still twisting. "Hey, what's a James Dean anyway?"

While they searched for a restaurant, Persephone tried to give Draco a crash course in Muggles. "The trick is to look like you know what you're doing, even when you don't. It's not that different in the wizard world, really. No one asks questions unless you give them an opportunity."

He listened, but the lesson was cut short when he spotted an Italian restaurant.

They ate. The food was not up to par with what Draco was used to, but his hunger was a potent seasoning. He drank two glasses of water and a glass of milk and ate a very large plate of spaghetti and meatballs. Persephone had a smaller plate but ate with the same enthusiasm.

Persephone asked the waiter about nearby hotels. After they finished eating, they tried to find one that he had recommended. Sitting in the restaurant for so long had allowed the feeling to return to Draco's legs, and this was not a good thing. He pushed himself on because he had far too much dignity to rest in the streets. His muscles ached, and he felt very dirty. The wipe had only taken off the top layer of grime, the blue jeans itched, and the summer sun had left him sticky and sweaty. He was convinced one of his cuts would become infected.

"There's one," Persephone announced. She ran up to the entrance of a building claiming affordable rooms and disappeared through a rotating glass door. Draco followed her, but not at a run. Cool air greeted him as he entered the lobby, and he sighed with pleasure. There were a few comfortable looking large chairs arranged in a rectangle. Draco was tempted to shed the jack and collapse into one of them, but he spotted Persephone at the counter and walked up to her.

"Well, what's the cheapest room you have for two," Persephone asked a woman with a tightly wound blonde bun. She was half hidden behind the counter, and looked like a legless torso in a red vest.

The woman looked slightly annoyed and tapped something hidden on her side of the counter. "One double bed," she said.

"That's fine," Persephone said. Draco almost said something but decided as long as there was a bed it was fine with him.

"How many nights?" The woman kept her eyes on whatever was behind the counter and did not look up.

"Just one."

"Credit card number?"

"We're paying with paper money," Persephone said.

The woman looked up and raised a well-plucked eyebrow. "You'll have to pay in advance," she said.

"That's fine."

She took in Draco standing impatiently behind Persephone, and the second eyebrow went up. "How old are you kids?" she asked slowly.

"Oh, just give us the bloody room!" Draco spat. "And get your mind out of gutter, she's my little sister."

The woman bristled. "No need to get upset, sir. What name will this be under?"

"Marvin," Draco gave the first Muggle name that came to mind. "Marvin Smith."

"Okay, Mr. Smith," she said tersely. "Do you require a wake up call?"

"No, thank you," Persephone said.

"It will be forty pounds." She was looking at Draco when she said this and seemed surprised that Persephone pulled out the roll of notes.

Persephone handed her some pound notes, and the woman pulled a key off the wall behind her. "214."

Draco took the key from her hand and strode to the staircase. He crossed the lobby to the stairs and realized that Persephone had not followed. She was still at the counter, talking to the woman with the tight bun. He waited impatiently and after a minute she caught up with him. "What was that about?" Draco asked.

Persephone covered her mouth to suffocate a giggle. "She wanted to make sure I was okay. She said you looked a little rough."

"Oh, good grief," Draco growled and plodded up the stairs. Persephone followed him, giggling. After a little searching on the second floor, they found 214. The key threatened to stick, but Draco managed to turn it. The room it revealed was small with just enough space for a double bed, two side tables, and a third longer table opposite the bed and supporting an oddly shaped black box. There was an incredibly small bathroom just behind the door without a decent tub.

"You can have the bathroom first," he told Persephone.

She borrowed a set of robes from his bag and said that she would be quick. Draco sat down on the end of the bed. He had a horrible vision of the future that involved shifting from one Muggle hotel to another, which would quickly eat up his remaining currency and leave him completely desolate. He missed his four-poster bed and wanted a hot meal. The spaghetti had not satisfied him. He thought about distracting himself with one of his schoolbooks until Persephone finished in the bathroom, but he was too tired to read. Instead he listened to the sound of the water running and tried to picture himself in a nice warm bath.

True to her word, Persephone did not take very long, but Draco was half asleep when she came padding out of the bathroom. His robes were far too big for her, which made her look even smaller and younger than she was. She had set her hair free again. It stuck out in such random clumps, that he fished his brush out of his bag and had her sit on the bed while he tried to put it in order. His mother had been right. The silver mass was uncontrollable, but he managed to remove a few small twigs and leaves hidden in its depths. When he had been very small, he had enjoyed brushing his mother's hair, something he would never admit to his closest friends. His mother's blonde hair was always soft and smooth and fell straight and neat past her shoulders. Those moments with her had been sweet and pure, and though Persephone's silver tangle was nothing like his mother's, the exercise soothed him. When he had arranged it as best he could, he took his turn in the bathroom. He profoundly missed having a tub to soak in, but the warm water from the shower and the complimentary soap were sufficient to clean him.

The fresh robes improved his mood greatly. He laid his Muggle clothes across the shower rod to air and checked his scrapes in the mirror. There were several significant ones on his face, and he hoped none of them scarred. At least none of them were still bleeding.

He emerged from the bathroom to find Persephone already asleep on one side of the bed. He had considered being a gentleman and taking the floor, but there was not much floor. Persephone left plenty of room for him on the other side of the bed. He climbed under the covers and crossed his arms behind his head on the pillow. At least the mattress was comfortable. Persephone rolled over in her sleep and curled up against him, laying her hand on his stomach. He felt his heart rate increase and looked down at her sleeping face and wild hair.

"Little sister," he murmured to himself. He took some of her hair in his hand. It was unusually springy but still soft. She continued to sleep, and he relaxed. Sleep would not come so easily for him. He tried to think about his next step. He liked Persephone, but dragging her around the world with him would eat through his resources even more quickly. He thought about his parents, wondered if they had bought the story he had left for them in the note or if they had already disowned him. He thought of Harry Potter, trapped with his Muggle relatives, having lost his wizard family. Bit by bit, things became clear for Draco. "All right, Potter," he murmured, stroking Persephone's hair lightly. "I'll bring your family back to you, and you help me get mine." And at some point, he slept.

o

* * *

o

When Draco awoke, Persephone was gone. Panic raced through him. He searched the room, which took less than a minute. Half formed thoughts raced through his head. She had been a dream, a hallucination, a plant by Voldemort to test his loyalty. Her Muggle clothes were gone. She had abandoned him. She had been taken. She had abandon him and then been taken. He started to race out in his robes but remembered to change first. Secrecy was still paramount. She was playing a very cruel joke. She was just downstairs. She had gotten lost. His panic was screaming more loudly. He did not know a thing about Muggles. Had she taken the pound notes? Had she taken the Galleons? What if he could not find her? How was he supposed to get to London without going through the wizard channels now?

As he pulled the T-shirt over his head, he heard the lock rattle. He paused, wondering if he should dive for his wand. The door opened and Persephone squeezed inside, her arms loaded with bags. "Oh, good morning," she said. "I was hoping to get back before you got up."

"Where did you go?" he asked not able to keep the accusation out of his tone.

"Just down to the corner market," she said, not taking notice of his tone. She dropped the bags on the bed. "And I got us a spot of breakfast. McDonald's is a right bit cheaper than room service." She handed Draco a box from one the bags. He opened it and found eggs and slices of French toast. Persephone handed him a utensil that looked like the illegitimate child of a spoon and a fork. He had to tear it free from a clear wrapping that held a paper napkin as well.

"Why does Muggle food taste so funny?"

"Well, it's processed, isn't it?" Persephone said, sticking some of the funny eggs in her mouth.

"What does that mean?" Draco whimpered. He was not sure he wanted to finish.

"Don't worry about it," Persephone laughed. "It won't hurt you."

Feeling miserable, Draco finished his breakfast. At least the tea tasted like tea.

"How do you know so much about Muggles, anyway?" he asked Persephone.

"Well, I'm taking Muggle studies…at least I was taking Muggle studies," she amended. "And Papa thought it was a good idea to get a good feel for them. You know since there's so many. Your father thought it was nuts of course. He said he wouldn't be caught dead on a Muggle outing. Severus said he would come with me sometime, but he wouldn't stay at the house because of James. Can't blame him, but I…" She trailed off. She looked very sad, and she must have remembered that most of the people she was discussing were dead or she was running from them.

Draco looked away guiltily. He had not told her that his Professor Snape was her Severus. It was too strange for him. He was too afraid that she would go to him, and he would make the connection back to his parents.

"I think I should take you to Harry," Draco said.

"You mean James' son?"

Draco nodded.

"Would he want to see me? You made him sound rather unpleasant."

"Well he is," Draco said. "To _me_. But you're his aunt. I think he would be happy to see you. I know he'd take care of you. He would probably be a better protector for you than I would. He still makes Vol-…well, he still makes you-know-who nervous. Besides, he's seventeen now. He can use magic. I've still got a few more days to go." In all the rush, Draco had completely forgotten his birthday. It had been the first year his mother had not planned a party for him. They could not have any guests stumbling over Death Eaters. He did the math in his head. It was only three days, the day before the Hogwarts train left from London.

That gave him some comfort. Only three days until he could do magic freely. In three days, he would be able to defend himself. Not that it would do much good in a face to face with Lord Voldemort, but he stood a better chance against one of the Death Eaters.

"There's a Muggle train station not too far from here," Persephone said. "I thought we could use it to get to London, but…do you know where Harry lives?"

Draco knew exactly where Harry Potter lived. He hoped Persephone would not ask him how. He glanced at the other bag Persephone had brought. "What's in that?"

"Oh!" She pulled out a box with an eerily still photograph of a man. "That man recognized you, so I thought you might like a bit more of a disguise."

Draco frowned. "What is it?"

"It's temporary hair color," she said. "It's brown. We can put it on you in the bathroom. I experimented a lot with hair color when I was younger, trying to cover this up." She touched the hat covering her silver mass. "Nothing would stick, no spells either. But your hair is probably normal."

Draco frowned. He thought his hair was a lot nicer than 'normal'. His sleek white-blonde hair was his trademark. It was how everyone said they recognized him as Lucius Malfoy's son…and therein was the problem.

Persephone must have guessed what he was thinking. "Don't worry, it's _temporary_. It will wash out."

"Why'd you get such a boring shade of brown? Why not black?"

Persephone giggled. He noticed that she did that a lot. "We're trying to make you blend in, remember, not stick out."

They spent the next half hour in the bathroom. He could not help wincing as Persephone applied the hair color. When she had finished, he had to admit that it made him look a lot more boring and Muggle.

They packed up their things and left the hotel. They took the train to Bracknell, which caused another significant shrink in their pound notes, and then caught a cab to Little Whinging. As they approached Harry Potter's neighborhood, Draco slipped down as far as he could in the back seat of the cab and kept his eyes wide, looking for any sign of dark wizards or any wizards lurking about. He had no idea who or what Voldemort might have spying on Harry Potter or what members of the Order of the Phoenix or the Ministry of Magic for that matter might have looking after him.

Persephone was looking out the windows as well, but she seemed more fascinated than nervous. She watched the boring, cookie cutter Muggle houses as though trying to soak up the place where Harry had grown up. The cab came to a halt at number four, Privet Drive. Draco got out. He looked about furtively, suspicious of every bush and window. The cat a few doors down made him extremely nervous. Even with his nerves on edge, he noticed the extreme Muggleness of Privet Drive. No wonder Potter never seemed anxious to go home.

They got their bags, and Persephone paid the driver. Draco dreaded knocking on the door, but he felt very unsafe standing out in the open. They started up the drive.

"Do you think he'll recognize me?" Persephone was talking again. "I mean do you think he's seen photos? What about this other aunt of his? Do you know if it's his aunt or uncle on his mother's side? Was she Muggle? Or a half blood? Or-?"

"She was a Mudblood," Draco snapped at her as he banged on the door. They did not have a proper knocker.

"Draco, use the bell," she said, knocking his hand down and pushing a small button beside the door.

After a very long minute, a thin, horse-faced blonde woman opened the door. "Can I help you?" she said. She looked at them both suspiciously, but she seemed particularly disturbed by Draco and the silver stick poking out the top of his bag.

"We're here to see, Harry Potter," Persephone said.

"He's not here," the woman said sharply. Her expression went from suspicious to flustered, and she began to close the door.

"What do you mean he's not here?" Draco felt the panic threaten to creep up again.

"I thought that was obvious," the woman said stiffly. "He's not here."

"Do you mean he's out?"

"I mean he's left."

"But, he can't," Persephone whimpered. "We came all this way to see him."

The bony woman glared at them. "That's not my problem." She moved to slam the door, but Draco shot out his arm and stopped it. The bony woman let out a startled yelp.

"Don't you dare slam a door on me," Draco said icily. "We need to speak to Harry Potter."

The bony woman went pale and quivered. He had definitely managed to frighten her. Persephone was giving him a worried glance as well, but he did his best to ignore it.

"Are-are you from that school or -?" she stopped in mid sentence.

"Yes," Draco half-lied. "We're from Hogwarts."

"He's already gone to catch his train," the woman said shakily. "He's staying with some friends. He didn't tell us who."

_Damn!_ Draco thought. The cab had already left. They were stranded in the middle of a Muggle neighborhood, where Death Eaters still might be lurking. "Can we come in?" he asked.

The woman seemed to gain some courage. "No. This is a normal house! There's nothing here for you people."

"Please," Persephone said, her voice soft and pleading. "I'd really like to talk to you a little bit. It would help if we could come inside. People might be watching."

This last sentence got the bony woman's attention. She stared past their shoulders looking for something more threatening than a pair of teenagers. "Are you friends of Harry's?" she asked.

"No," Draco snorted. Immediately, he realized that should not have been his answer, but it seemed to make the woman less apprehensive about him rather than more.

"All right. Step inside." She let them in, and they stepped into a very small entry hall, which was half taken up by a very common looking staircase. On the staircase was a very large but otherwise common looking boy who could not have been much older than Draco.

"You must be Harry's aunt?" Persephone said uncertainly to the woman sticking out her hand.

The woman looked at Persephone disdainfully. She took Persephone's hand with two fingers as if it were a very dirty sock that needed airing. Persephone looked back at her curiously. She looked up at the boy on the stair. "Hallo," she said. "Are you related to Harry as well?"

"Who are you?" the boy barked back. "What do you want with Harry?"

If Draco had spoken like that to a guest, his mother would have rebuked him, even if she did not care for them herself. But the look that the Muggle woman gave her son was not the least bit disapproving, instead it was proud. Persephone placed her fingers over her lips and looked slightly embarrassed. "How horribly rude of me," she said in her light laughing tone. "I'm dreadfully sorry. You must think I have awful manners. I'm Persephone Potter. I'm Harry's aunt on his father's-"

The rest of her sentence was drowned out by the startled scream Harry's other aunt gave. She backed away from Persephone. "That's impossible! You're dead!"

"I am not dead," Persephone insisted.

The boy on the steps came down. He towered over Persephone and frowned down at her. "You can't be Harry's aunt. You don't look any older than he does."

"Oh," Persephone said. She hastily pulled out her pins, took off her hat, and released her wild silver hair. "Everyone says I have a young face, but you can see…" Draco was used to Persephone's silver hair by now, but he knew it made her look a good bit older at first glance. The large boy looked at her hair uncertainly.

"Where have you been then?" the bony woman snapped. She was still clutching her chest, not completely recovered from her shock. "If you're that boy's aunt, then why didn't you take him? Why were we stuck with him?"

"Well, I…I was in a coma," she said far too happily. Persephone knew more about Muggles than Draco, but she did not seem to understand the fine art of a good lie. Not that they would believe the truth either. "I just woke up, you see, and came straight here to see Harry. He's the only relative I've got left."

"I see," the bony woman said grumpily, as if being in a coma were a poor excuse to not take Harry away.

"Although, I suppose if you're James' sister in law, you're sort of family by marriage."

The bony woman looked rather disgusted at this prospect. "My sister and that boy are dead," she said bluntly. "I think that dissolves any legal connection we might have."

"Who are you, then?" the large boy asked Draco.

"Marvin Smith," Draco said giving him the same name as he had at the hotel. There was no telling what Potter had told these Muggles about him. "I volunteer at St. Mungo's. Who are you?"

"Dudley Dursley," the large boy huffed. Draco had to choke back a laugh. "This is my mother Petunia Dursley."

"Oh, Petunia's a lovely name!" Persephone said happily. "Just like a flower."

Mrs. Dursley looked flattered in spite of herself. When she spoke it was in a slightly less antagonistic tone. "Well, you can see that Harry's not here…"

"Could I ask you about him?" Persephone interrupted. "You see I'm very nervous about meeting Harry. It would help so much if I knew more about him. I would really love to look about and see the place where he grew up."

Mrs. Dursley let out a long-suffering sigh. She must have realized Persephone would not leave easily. "Well, come have some tea," she said, and led them back into a small kitchen.

Tea was all she gave them. Draco wished she would offer more because his stomach was growling again, but he felt far too uncomfortable to ask. Petunia kept looking at Persephone's mop and smoothing her own perfectly neat hair, as if she could force Persephone's to lie flat by suggestion. Dudley kept glaring at the two of them, mostly Draco. Persephone asked them all sorts of silly questions about Harry like how he did at school and did he have any hobbies and did he like gummy candies or chocolate better. Draco judged from Petunia's answers that she had an even lower opinion of Harry than he did, not enough interest in him to know if he preferred gummies or chocolate, and Harry never said a word to the Dursleys about how things went at Hogwarts. Petunia kept slipping in comparisons of Harry to her own thick, dull looking son, and Harry never came out the better in them. These comparisons did not seem to faze Dudley, who must have been used to them. He occasionally stopped glaring at Draco to look blandly at his mother's compliments but would soon resume his glaring.

Persephone decided she wanted to see a picture of Harry. Petunia was very happy to pull out large photo albums, which featured far more pictures of Dudley's first year than Draco's parents had of his entire life. Persephone patiently let Aunt Petunia show her everyone of Dudley's pictures, wading through three albums, making the appropriate 'aw' sounds, before she spotted one with Harry in the background. "Oh, there he is. It's eerie. He looks just like James did at that age."

Draco glanced at the photos, but he found the frozen images to be very eerie. Soon, he backed himself against a far wall and waited impatiently for Persephone to finish.

What Dudley lacked in cunning, he made up for in persistence. He continued to glare at Draco steadily. Draco was not sure whether to be annoyed or amused by the attention. He did his best to ignore Dudley and think about what his next move should be. He wished he had his own vault at Gringotts, but his parents had felt there was no need for him to have his own account until he graduated Hogwarts. It was one of the subtle leashes they had on him, one he had never felt restricted by before. He knew where to find the Weasleys but doubted they would help him even if they knew where Harry was. He wished he knew where the Granger household was. Certainly she would…

Draco pushed the thought of Granger out of his mind and studied the boring little Muggle house. The only thing he liked about it was that it was clean.

Before Petunia and Persephone had finished going through the albums, a round man with no neck but a very large mustache came in through the front door and started grumbling about traffic before it had closed behind him. Draco had a clear view of the front door and was therefore in clear view. Mr. Dursley stopped short when he saw Draco and demanded very loudly to know who he was. The scene from earlier replayed as Persephone introduced herself again.

In the long run, they were invited to stay for dinner. Persephone had endeared herself to Mrs. Dursley by 'oo'ing and 'aw'ing over Dudley's baby pictures and expressing a dislike of animals and James Potter. Mr. Dursley was very unhappy to discover that Draco and Persephone were some of "those people", but became quite contented when he figured out that Persephone was a rapt audience to his complaints about Harry. Draco was very happy to finally have something to eat. Mrs. Dursley, for all her faults, was a competent cook and used to serving portions large enough to satisfy her oversized husband and son. By the end of the meal, he was getting extremely tired of Mr. Dursley's long-winded complaints about Harry. He was not fond of Potter, but he found himself wanting to verbally defend him just to shut the fat man up. Dudley, uninspired yet persistent Dudley, continued to glare at Draco throughout the meal, breaking only to chew and cast suspicious glances at Persephone.

They had gotten to the pudding before Dudley spoke. Mr. Dursley had just finished his longest rant yet about how Harry would turn out to be a no account just like his father, when Dudley said softly, "Harry's Head Boy, you know."

Draco could almost hear the grinding as the conversation halted. It was no surprise to Draco, who knew Harry was Dumbledore's golden boy, but the Dursleys looked very shocked. They fell quiet, which made Draco's pudding taste better. Persephone seemed to be trying to place this new information alongside all the negative reports she had been hearing about her nephew. After several minutes, Mr. Dursley coughed. "Well, I'm sure _those sort _use funny measures."

As Mrs. Dursley cleaned away the dishes, Draco and Persephone retreated into the living room and sat down on the sofa.

"What do we do now?" Persephone asked.

"I think we should go to London," Draco said.

"Draco, we're nearly out of pound notes."

"More reason to go to London," he said, thinking about the gems in his pocket.

"How? I don't think we've got enough for a cab and the train. Not for both of us."

He understood her distress. They had expected to find Harry Potter here or at least some way to get in touch with him. At the exchange they had planned on heading straight to London. The side trip to Little Whinging had stretched them thin.

Mr. Dursley settled his considerable personage down into the large chair near the fireplace. "Well, getting late. I suppose you'll want to get to your hotel."

Draco felt his stomach sink even lower. They definitely did not have enough pounds for a hotel. It would just be another long night until they got to London.

"We don't have a hotel," Persephone told him.

Mr. Dursley narrowed his beady eyes but attempted to look pleasant at the same time. "Petunia, could you bring in the directory?"

"It's not that." Persephone may not have been a good liar, but she had the helpless little girl look down extremely well. "We thought Harry would be here. We came in such a rush. I made no provisions for a trip back."

Petunia who had just come in from the kitchen clutching the directory spoke up. "Well, Vernon, since Marge went home, we do have the guest room open. Why don't you spend the night, dear? I'm sure you can figure something out by morning."

Vernon Dursley was beginning to turn purple. Draco had watched the man change shades an amazing number of times during the evening. It had to be abnormal, even for a Muggle.

"Oh, thank you so much." Persephone looked ready to weep with gratitude. "I feel dreadful imposing, but it would save me so much distress."

Mr. Dursley turned his beady eyes to glare at Draco. "I guess you'll be wanting to stay too."

_No_, Draco thought, _I would rather sleep in the woods than be trapped with you Muggles any longer_. He however was a good liar. "If it's not too much of an imposition."

"_Of course not_!" Vernon Durlsey roared, jumping to his feet. "We're just like a bloody hotel. Everyone showing up with suitcases!" He stormed to the kitchen.

"We can put him in Harry's old room," said Petunia calmingly. "We haven't taken the bed out yet. It's just for tonight."

Vernon Dursley returned from the kitchen and shook a fat finger at Draco and Persephone. "ONE NIGHT. You're out first thing in the morning! And no, funny business!"

Draco was not sure what he meant by funny business. He just wanted to the night to be over. Mr. Dursley did not stay to explain but stormed upstairs.

Mrs. Dursley apparently liked to play hostess. She seemed to think that they would be impressed that she had _two_ guest bedrooms. Persephone made the appropriate praises of the guest bedroom, which was very pink and frilly. She sounded sincere even to Draco. But no matter how good a liar Draco was, he could not drudge up a compliment about Harry's bedroom, which was small, dark, and dull. When Petunia had left him, he dropped his bag on the floor and lay down on the narrow bed.

So this was what it was like to be Harry Potter?

He thought about the double bed in the guestroom and wished he could be there, Persephone curled up at his side. Her presence put him at ease, but maybe that's what Vernon Dursley had meant by funny business. The more sensible parts of Draco's brain knew that having her at his side was an addiction better broken before started. Besides, alone, he felt less guilty indulging in his normal fantasies, which involved a completely different girl curling up to him.

His fantasy was just starting to get interesting, when there was a small knock on his door. He sat up quickly, feeling embarrassed and guilty. "Uh...come in."

The door creaked open, and Persephone peeked in wearing what must have been a borrowed nightgown. She slipped inside and closed the door behind her. Draco felt his pulse quicken as Persephone sat down beside him on the bed. She kissed his cheek. "It was a very brave thing you did," she said.

"What was?"

"All of it," she smiled at him softly. "Rescuing me. Running from Voldemort. Traveling like a Muggle. It was all very brave."

Draco frowned at her. How could she have it so wrong? "That wasn't bravery. That was panic."

She still looked at him admiringly, sliver eyes shining in the moonlight. "Well, I think it was brave. And I just wanted so say thank you."

Draco resisted the urge to gulp. Harry Potter's aunt wanted to thank him on Harry Potter's bed. That seemed extremely wrong, even to him. But Persephone just smiled and stood.

"Don't worry," she said. "It will all work out. We'll get to London." She slipped back out and shut the door.

Draco slapped his hand over his face and fell back on the bed. _She just wanted to _say _thank you, idiot. Get your own mind out of the gutter._

He felt disgusted with himself and not the least bit sleepy. He got up and decided to explore Harry's small room to take his mind off things. He opened every drawer and investigated the wardrobe. Harry must not have been planning to come back, something Draco could not blame him for. The only things left were some foul looking old socks in the dresser and some very large shirts hanging in the wardrobe which were far too big to have belonged to Harry. There were small holes where things must have been tacked to the walls recently. His friend Crabbe had Quidditch team posters and flags tacked all over his wall. Draco had always found posters untidy looking and left his own white walls clean.

There was another one of those weird black boxes, similar to the one at the hotel. He remembered more of them in the kitchen and living room downstairs. Draco poked at it. He pressed one of the buttons, and it flared to life with sound and colors. He jumped back, but it did nothing except sit there with a constantly changing picture of people talking to each other. He tried talking to them, but none of the figures responded. After a while, he edged closer and tried more of the buttons. One made the box louder, one made it softer, two completely changed the pictures, though sometimes they changed on their own. Finally he tried the first button again, and it shut off. He stared at it for a while, daring it to wake up again, but the box stayed eerily silent.

"Weird," he muttered.

It was a long night, and he never got to sleep properly. He managed to drift off for an hour or so, but then some odd noise or a bad dream would wake him. He would lay awake for another hour staring at the ceiling or out the window until he could drift off again.

He had almost settled into a decent sleep, when a rap at the door woke him. "Breakfast." He heard Petunia Dursley announce tersely. Sunlight was pouring through the window. Draco whimpered and forced himself to get up and dress. He staggered down the stairs, hoping a meal would improve his disposition.

Persephone was waiting for him at the table looking bright as the sunshine. Draco thought bitterly that she must have slept well. She had exchanged her jeans for her Hogwarts skirt and tucked the pink T-shirt into it, so that it no longer swallowed her. Petunia was still watching Persephone's wild hair and smoothing her own. Dudley was waiting as well. He went back to glaring at Draco the moment he entered the room. Draco sneered back him, not in the mood for that nonsense. He slid into an empty seat, and Mrs. Dursley placed a plate of eggs and sausages in front of him.

"Vernon left early for work," she said as if she thought he might be worried about the fat man's absence.

"I'm so sorry if we put him out," Persephone said apologetically.

"Oh, no, no." Petunia smoothed her hair. "He just had some extra work to do at the office." Draco doubted that was true but decided there was no sense arguing about it. Persephone continued to pour out compliments on Petunia's abilities as a hostess and how charming her home was. Draco had to admit the woman was not completely useless. She had found them a bus line to London that they could afford and a station in walking distance.

After they had finished their breakfast, they packed up their bags and said their goodbyes. However much Petunia enjoyed playing hostess, she made no attempt to get them to stay longer or keep in touch. The sun was very bright and hot as they walked through the neighborhood to the bus station. Draco was finally compelled to take off his jacket. Persephone looked liked she was enjoying a holiday. Draco had to admit the world was less frightening when it was washed out with sunshine.

"I was thinking," he said. "Maybe you should go straight to Hogwarts. I mean Harry will be there soon, and it's not like you ran off on purpose. They might even let you go back to school."

"Really?" She looked delighted at the prospect. "That would be wonderful, but what about you? You have another year to go, don't you?"

"I'm not sure what I'll do." Draco longed for the familiarity of the castle walls more than he ever had before, but he was running for his life. He had not even considered finishing up his schooling. "They'll know where to find me if I go to Hogwarts," he reminded her.

"I know," she said. "But it'll fit with the note you left."

Draco mulled it over. He would be too easy to find at Hogwarts, but at the same time, he was not sure he could hide any better on his own. At Hogwarts at least there was Professor Snape who… "Persephone, I need you to promise me something."

"What is it?"

"You told me you didn't want revenge," he said. "I'm going to hold you to that. You have to promise me that you won't tell anyone, and I mean anyone, that it was my mother who put you in that portrait." The smile faded from her face, and she paused on the sidewalk. "Look, she's in enough trouble with this Death Eater stuff already. And if father found out… if Voldemort found out, she'd been hiding a Potter…"

Persephone looked up at him. "Okay, I promise. I don't really want to get Narci in trouble. I'm not going to lie though."

"Fair enough," Draco said. "But no matter who asks you or how, you can't tell them it was my mother. Even if you trust them completely. Vol-…the Dark Lord has ways to know things."

"I said, I promised," Persephone said. "I meant it. I keep my promises." Draco believed her. Her sincere, silver eyes were looking straight into his, and he was the one who had to look away.

He resumed walking. "The question then," he continued. "Is how do we get to Hogwarts?"

"Take the express, of course," she said.

"But the train doesn't leave for three days. You want to just hang about Diagon Alley and see who recognizes us?"

"The student train doesn't leave for three days, but the one to Hogsmeade runs more often than that. It's the same stop."

Draco snorted, irritated and feeling a little dumb. He had known that. "Fine," he said. "I'll take you to Hogwarts."

They found the bus station and the remainder of their pound notes went into tickets. The bus ride was not any less unpleasant than any of the other Muggle transportation Draco had experienced. The seats were uncomfortable, and there were more funny smells. Despite his discomfort, he was slightly amused by Persephone who kept pointing out the window and chirping, "Oh, look at that!"

The bus let them off near Hyde Park, and they had a very long walk to Kings Cross Station. They could have taken the Underground, if the pound notes were not completely gone. At least, it was a nice day, and Draco was familiar enough with this part of London. A few times, he thought he spotted other wizards and would push Persephone into an alley or duck into a shop. His unease grew as they approached the station, but he forced himself to stick with the plan.

They pressed through the crowds at King's Cross and slid through the barrier to Platform 9¾. Draco did his best not to look anyone in the eye and wished Persephone was doing the same. She was so interested in everything that some of the other wizards were looking at them curiously, like they might actually be a couple of Muggles who had wandered onto the platform by accident. Draco found the ticket booth and was incredibly happy that he could pay with Galleons. There was a train leaving for Hogsmeade in an hour. They waited on a bench. Draco kept his face in his hands hoping that no one would recognize him. Persephone sat kicking her feet and patting his back. Maybe she was hoping someone would recognize her, though she kept her hat pinned down over her hair.

The train that appeared was green and shorter than the Hogswarts Express. They boarded quickly, hoping that they could keep a railcar to themselves. Fate was not prepared to let them go that easily. Four middle aged witches squeezed into the car with them. Draco put the jacket over his head and tried to sleep sitting up in the corner. He had no better success on the train than he had at the Dursleys'. Every time he came close, the witches would start clucking loudly over something from _Witch Weekly_ or start giggling about some half-imaginary scandal in _The Quibbler_. Draco did his best to ignore them. Persephone must have been nervous about going to Hogwarts, because she did not let the witches draw her into their conversation. She squeezed next to Draco.

Last night he had missed her, but having her thigh pressed against his on the train was just making him more uncomfortable. He did not bother pulling down the jacket to tell her so, so she stayed. After a few hours, she laid her head on his shoulder. This made him even less comfortable, but again, he did not emerge from the safety of his jacket to tell her. He drifted in and out. He drifted out for a longer than usual period. When he awoke, the witches were gone and Persephone handed him a cauldron cake along with some pumpkin juice. He would have been annoyed with her for going into his bag without asking, but he was hungry. Draco took advantage of the witches' absence to stretch out on the train bench. This helped him stay asleep for longer periods of time.

The train seemed to take even longer than usual to reach Hogwarts. He guessed they must have been making stops while he slept. He did not stay conscious long enough to wonder where. Persephone continued to be unusually quiet, she sat across from him by the window and watched the scenery roll by.

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Draco came around as the train pulled into the Hogmeade Station. He picked up the bag with his broom, and Persephone took the other one. They stepped off the train and waited for the crowd to thin. It took Draco a few minutes to come to full consciousness. He could see the castle, but they still had a long walk around the lake and up the hill. "Oh, bugger this," Draco said and pulled his broom out of the bag. A few clothing articles fell out with it, and Persephone stuffed them back in. Draco mounted the broom, and Persephone got on behind him, the two sacks awkwardly slung over her shoulders. Some of the passengers standing around watched them curiously.

An official looking man, started to approach them. "Hey, you can't-."

Draco kicked off and sped across the lake. Persephone clinched her arms around his middle, but not with same death grip she had had before. Draco sped towards the castle, though he did not have time to take the Timebender up to its top speed. He set down in the deserted courtyard. They dismounted, and Draco took a deep breath. He wanted to steel himself before they went inside. He wanted to make sure he and Persephone had their story worked out before-

"Well," a soft voice came from behind him. Draco spun around. His heart was pounding. The wizened old face of Albus Dumbledore looked back at him. "It looks like a pair of Muggles have found their way to Hogwarts." He stepped across the courtyard to them. His long silver-white hair and beard seemed to sparkle in the sunlight. "But we've never had Muggles at Hogwarts before." He stopped a few feet from them and looked questioningly at Draco. Draco tried to speak but could not find any words. "Mr. Malfoy. Why don't you and Ms. Potter come up to my office and have a chat?"

The Headmaster led them inside, up the stairs and behind a gargoyle statue that rolled out of their way to reveal a spiral staircase. At the top of the twisting stair was a round office, filled with many interesting devices, but Draco was too nervous to look at any of them. Professor Dumbledore crossed the room and sat down at a claw-footed desk. He motioned for them to have a seat in the two chairs placed before it. Persephone dropped smartly into hers. Her smile was wide and only slightly nervous. Draco sank into his chair and wished he could keep sinking, through the floor, through the castle, straight through to the center of the earth where no one could find him.

"It is good to have you back, Persephone," Dumbledore said smiling at her. "You can imagine the surprise at the Ministry of Magic, when they got reports of an underage witch doing magic, not once but three times within an hour, particularly when that young witch has been missing for twenty years. I have gotten quite a few owls today. I don't suppose you could enlighten me as to where you have been hiding?"

"I wasn't hiding," Persephone said. "I was kidnapped."

"I suspected that," Dumbledore said, his voice still gentle. Draco thought he sounded far too casual about it. "I would like to hear all about it, but you will forgive me if I first ask you how you have remained so well preserved?"

"I'm not sure exactly," Persephone said. "They kept me in a painting, you see. I suppose no one ever gets any older in a painting."

"This is true," said one of the portraits of a former Headmaster hanging on the wall. "I haven't age a day in sixty years."

"I have seen far too many reasons for disappearances in my time, but I must say that is a new one for me," Dumbledore said thoughtfully. "Well, the Department of Time should be relieved they won't have to get involved. I was afraid this might fall into their jurisdiction, and they are very difficult to work with."

"There's no such thing as the Department of Time," Draco blurted. The Department of Time was just a myth, a secret agency that people wrote interesting bedtime stories about, but no serious wizards thought it existed. It irritated him that Dumbledore could make jokes while he was so nervous.

"Of course not," Dumbledore said with a twinkle in his eye. Draco knew he was having fun with him, but he got the irritating impression that the old man knew something he did not. "May I ask how you escaped your painting?"

"Draco rescued me, sir," Persephone said, sounding very proud of him for doing so. Draco did not think he deserved to be praised and sat stiffly. "That's why he and I had to use magic. We were escaping."

Draco tried not to wince. "I was unaware you had violated the restriction on underage wizardry, Mr. Malfoy," Dumbledore said, turning his eyes to Draco again. Draco's father had set up a masking barrier around Draco's room so that he could practice his spells during the summer months. He had violated the restriction hundreds of times, but he did not want to admit that to Dumbledore.

"Well, it was mainly me," Persephone volunteered. "Draco only did one spell to get me out. Maybe it doesn't count because it was a magical device of sorts. Using those don't count." Dumbledore continued to look at Draco in a way that made him certain the old man knew exactly what had taken place but was waiting for them to confess to it. "They're not going to snap my wand are they?"

"Under the circumstances, I greatly doubt it," Dumbledore reassured her, finally shifting his attention away from Draco. "Now, Ms. Potter, may I know the name of your creative kidnapper?"

"No, sir," Persephone said softly. Dumbledore raised a bushy eyebrow. "I promised not to tell."

Dumbledore's eyes flicked to Draco then back to Persephone. "And to whom did you make this promise?"

"If I told you that, headmaster, it might indicate who it was, and that would break my promise indirectly." Draco wished he could feel relief, but Persephone's answer put him on edge.

"I see. Could you tell me where your painting has been hanging all these years?"

"I was in an attic, sir."

"May I ask which attic?" Dumbledore's voice stayed calm, but Draco thought he heard a hint of irritation. Or maybe he was imagining it. Maybe Dumbledore was just being understandably curious and did not have a clue who was actually behind Persephone's disappearance.

Persephone looked a little frustrated herself. "Sir, if I told you that, it might lead you to the person who put me in, and I _promised_ not to tell. If what Draco told me is true, they probably saved my life…even if it was unintentional, and I owe them something for that. They can't hurt me anymore. So I don't see the point in breaking that promise."

Dumbledore smiled sadly at Persephone. "Well, I do not think it was a very wise promise, but I will not be the one to push you to break it." The old man picked up a letter from his desk. "I received an owl from your mother as well, Mr. Malfoy. She claims you pulled a bit of a disappearing act and wanted me to contact her the moment you arrived at Hogwarts."

"Did you?" Draco asked. The dread was now clamping his chest tightly.

"Not yet," Dumbledore said, studying him. "But it would be very irresponsible of me to ignore such a simple request from a worried parent."

Draco felt the clinching ease a bit. Something resembling bravery pushed his own requests out. "Could you wait a few days? Until the Hogwarts train arrives normally? And could you not mention Persephone?"

"Now, young Draco, why would you want me to lie to your mother? If I remember, Persephone, you were friends with Narcissa Black in school," Dumbledore said still studying Draco. "She would undoubtedly want to hear that both of you are safe."

"But we're not safe!" Draco blurted. He continued quickly, trying to sound concerned rather than panicked. "I mean Persephone isn't. She's a Potter. That means she would go straight to the top of Voldemort's hit list. He'd try to use her to get to Harry, wouldn't he?"

Dumbledore's face finally took on the seriousness that Draco thought the situation deserved. "Yes, unfortunately that is exactly what it means."

Draco felt a little more confident and pushed on. "And if you sent an owl, it could be intercepted. Even if you left out Persephone's name and just put that 'Draco showed up to school three days early with a strange girl', then she…or the person who was keeping Persephone…or anyone who might want to hurt her or Harry…well, they might be able to put it together, wouldn't they?" Draco had felt more confident, but the confidence had not reached his voice. He realized that he still sounded very nervous.

Dumbledore continued to study Draco with his serious look, like he could read Draco's mind. Draco slapped his Occlumency tight around his mind. Anger replaced his anxiety. _You're hoping I'll tell you something, old man_, he thought bitterly. _This concern is an act. You're just hoping I'll spy for you too_.

Dumbledore had organized the Order of the Phoenix that stood in opposition to Voldemort's Death Eaters. Dumbledore knew better than anyone what Draco's father had been arrested for and how deeply his mother was probably wrapped up in the whole affair. He must have lacked evidence to act against his mother, or Draco was certain he would put her in prison as well.

Draco felt angry and betrayed by his father for bringing Voldemort into their lives. He was even more deeply disturbed by how his mother had lied to his father and attacked a friend out of phantom jealousy. He did not want to think about the crimes he suspected that they had committed and would commit. But they were still his parents. He was not going to be the one who betrayed them.

"Sir," Persephone peeped, drawing Dumbledore's attention to herself. "I was wondering. Do you think I could go back to school this year?"

A smile played briefly across Dumbledore lips. "We'll see what we can do, Ms. Potter. As Mr. Malfoy has pointed out, we need to exercise some discretion for your own safety, but I honestly can't think of a safer place for you to stay than Hogwarts. We have a few days before term starts to work it all out. I see no point in sending you and Mr. Malfoy back to London, so I suppose you'll just stay here for the remainder of the summer."

"I don't know if I'm staying at Hogwarts this year," Draco said blandly.

Dumbledore gave him a penetrating stare. "And where would you go, Mr. Malfoy?"

Of course, that was Draco's whole problem.


	4. The Return to Hogwarts

**Disclaimer:** This story is based on the Harry Potter novels written by J.K. Rowling. All characters created by J.K. Rowling are owned by J.K. Rowling. The few characters created by me (i.e. Persephone, Hotchet, Kagome…) belong to me, but are available for use in other fics as long as I get credited as their creator. None of us are making any money off this and no infringement is intended.

o

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**Level 1.2: The Return to Hogwarts**

When he finished with his cleaning, Harry went up to his room to send Hedwig out with a message for Dumbledore. He opened his window, and a large grey owl fluttered inside. Harry had to back away quickly to avoid a face full of feathers. The owl perched on Harry's desk and stood looking very stiff and important. Hedwig flapped indignantly at the intrusion, before resting herself on the foot of Harry's bed. Harry watched the owl for a minute before taking his letter. He had already been attacked by one animagus that night.

_Heard the news. Glad the Weasleys were there. _

_Will take you home Saturday, August 16th. Happy birthday._

_~Moony_

_P.S. Heard the party was a success before the trouble._

Mooney, of course, was Remus Lupin, who had been a good friend of James Potter and Harry's Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher during his third year at Hogwarts. He was currently a member of the Order of the Phoenix. The rest made sense, except for "take you home Saturday, August 16th". Harry was not sure what he meant by "home". Obviously it was not the Dursleys', but whose home then? Or was this code for Hogwarts where Harry felt at home? And why was Lupin waiting so long to take Harry there?

Harry was getting tired of all this secrecy stuff. He wanted to march straight up to Voldemort and get it all over with, hang the Ministry. He also wanted to live and enjoy his last school year with his friends. So he wrote back to Lupin.

_Will be ready at appointed time._

_~Lively_

He tied the note to the grey owl's leg. It hooted at him and flapped off into the night. He was about to shut the window when a second owl, this one brown, came soaring across the backyard. It dropped onto the windowsill, and Harry took the note that was attached to his leg.

_Terribly owful mess of rugged Ripper our Weasley's netted, ought of nown._

_~Hagrid_

Harry blinked at the strange letter. The grammar was remarkably bad even for Hagrid. Of course, Hagrid had been known to drink heavily on occasion. Maybe the news had reached him on a less than sober evening. Harry gave the brown owl a bit to drink and sent him back off into the night. He let Hedwig out so that she could get her exercise for the evening and with any luck return with more useful letters. He closed the window and sat down on his bed. "I guess I'll just have to wait," he said to the empty room.

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The next day at lunch, Harry sat opposite Dudley at the kitchen table. Uncle Vernon was still scrutinizing the living room looking for something Harry had broken or left out of place. He seemed to be shifting between satisfaction at having everything in order and frustration at not having anything to yell at Harry about. Aunt Petunia was busy pretending that there had never been a party.

As Dudley predicted, she had not been happy about Aunt Marge's sudden appearance, particularly since they had not discovered her until that morning. Aunt Marge had emerged from the guestroom to look for the missing Ripper, and watching the ground, had run headlong into Uncle Vernon. There had been a lot of shouting, and Harry had pieced together that Marge was having some sort of financial trouble. When she turned on Harry to blame Rippers disappearance on him, Dudley had stepped in and said he had let the dog out to use the lawn.

Ripper of course was being held at the Ministry of Magic in London and nowhere near the Dursleys' neatly trimmed lawn. Aunt Marge had gone outside to look for the dog. Harry and Dudley had pretended to look as well, but they quickly doubled back to enjoy a quiet lunch before Marge returned. Neither Uncle Vernon nor Aunt Petunia seemed too distressed by the dog's disappearance, though they feigned concern for Marge's sake.

Despite the morning accusations, Harry was still in a very good mood from the success of his party and his new freedom to use magic. Dudley kept screwing up his face like he was about to say something, but then he would glance at his parents, think better of it, and settle for giving Harry half a grin.

Harry was trying not to look too amused himself. As Uncle Vernon made a huffing sound and started another round of searching the living room, he took a bite out of his sandwich.

There was a knock at the door that sounded a bit funny. Harry stood up, the sandwich still in his mouth, to look and saw that the knock sounded funny because it had been produced from the inside. Remus Lupin, looking as shabby and wonderful as ever, was standing casually in the entry hall. "Ready to go, Harry?" he asked.

Harry blinked. He felt silly standing there with the sandwich hanging out of his mouth, so he bit into it and tried to chew and talk at the same time, "Buf, you sed, you warn' gedding 'ere 'il the fixfeenf." Remus gave him a tired, bemused smile, and Harry quickly swallowed the bite. "Bit early aren't you?"

Remus glanced at the clock on the wall. "Nope, noon exactly."

"WHO IS THAT?" Uncle Vernon roared from the living room. He stormed into the entry hall, red faced and looking almost pleased to have something to yell about.

"Remus Lupin," Harry's former teacher said stretching out his hand to Mr. Dursley.

Mr. Dursley looked at Lupin's shaggy appearance and outstretched hand. "Hmph, what do you want?"

"I'm here to take Harry," Lupin said, unperturbed by Uncle Vernon's rudeness. Vernon's face twitched as he was torn between a desire for Harry to leave and his instinct to resist anything that Harry wanted to do. "Are you packed?" Lupin asked Harry.

"Not yet," said Harry. "But give me a few minutes." Harry left the remainder of his sandwich on his plate and sprang up the stairs, extremely happy to escape before Aunt Marge returned.

"I'll help you," Lupin volunteered and followed him.

"Make sure, you get everything!" Vernon Dursley roared after them. "BECAUSE IF YOU FORGET ANYTHING, I WON'T PAY TO HAVE IT SHIPPED!"

"But why did you say you were coming on the sixteenth?" Harry asked Lupin once they were inside his bedroom.

"We didn't want to give the Death Eaters a heads up if they intercepted the letter," Lupin said calmly. He peeked out Harry's window. "I had thought you would interpret Hagrid's message. Naturally I couldn't come on the sixteenth. It's a full moon. Oh, well, no matter. Let's get you packed." He waved his wand and said the appropriate spell. Most of Harry's things jumped into his trunk.

Harry went through all his drawers, cleaning out the last bits that he might want. He knew Uncle Vernon would be true to his word. After he had gone through his wardrobe and fished out his small store of Galleons from the loose floorboard under his bed, Harry closed the lid to his trunk.

"Are you leaving right away?" Harry turned to see Dudley standing at the doorway.

"Yes, right away," Lupin said, pulling something out of his pocket.

Dudley glanced at the television he had given Harry, which was still sitting on the dresser. "You're not going to take it with you?" he asked with a hint of disappointment.

"They don't have electricity at Hogwarts," Harry explained. Dudley looked startled by this.

"We really should get going," Lupin urged. He took one end of Harry's trunk and laid the comb he had taken out of his pocket with a handkerchief on top of it. "Ministry set up a portkey to take us straight to the atrium. They want to ask you a few questions about the attack."

Harry nodded and picked up the other end of the trunk. "Well, keep in touch, Dudley. We'd best be off now."

"On three." Lupin gave the count, and they touched the comb at the same time. Nearly instantly, after the familiar yet disconcerting hook through the navel sensation that came with portkey travel, they found themselves in the atrium of the Ministry of Magic.

Golden fireplaces lined the walls of the atrium, and the large Fountain of Magical Brethren spouted steadily. It was busier than when Harry had last been here. Wizards and witches scurried past him and popped in and out of green fires. Lupin cast a levitation spell on Harry's trunk and sent it gliding lightly before them. They registered their wands and checked the trunk at the entrance to the lift and rode to level ten. Harry felt a bit nervous about leaving all his belongings, but he knew better than to ask if he could drag it through the Ministry. Lupin took Harry to courtroom number three.

It was a smaller room than court room number ten where Harry had been to and through previous trials. There was no jury or counsel of wizards in the room either. Just the judge, two guards, and the tattooed man who had attacked him. The tattooed man was bound to a chair by ropes and probably half a dozen magical spells. He looked relaxed in his seat, but he kept his eyes on Harry. The judge motioned for Harry to come further inside.

"Hello, Harry," the judge said with a tight smile. He was an old wizard, quite bald on top with a tuft of gray hair that came down to his shoulders and curled out at the ends. "Please state your full name and tell us what happened yesterday."

Harry recounted the story of the party, his 'aunt' Marge, and Ripper's transformation. The tattooed wizard continued to stare fixedly at him. Harry tried to ignore him, but finally his nerves snapped. He turned on the man. "What are you looking at?"

"You're just about a man now," the wizard said. His voice was still growlish, but it reminded Harry a little less of a bulldog. "You was just a little boy when I got into this. Hadn't set out to kill you, you know. Thought it might be a good idea to get close to the one who sent the Dark Lord packing. Thought, eh, every boy wants a dog, right? Left me-self on your aunt Marge's door with a note, figured if she gave me to you, it'd be less suspicious. Her breeding dogs and all, naturally wanting to pawn off an old one. Didn't figure the old girl would have a soft spot for old dogs. Didn't figure the aunt you lived with couldn't stand 'em.

"I'd left me wand at the base of a wood pile. Didn't figure she'd keep me locked up so long. Time I'd got back to the woodpile; she'd burnt up my wand. Too drunk to notice it sparkin' in the fire. Why don't you tell them about 'er, Harry? Tell them what kind of woman she was. Tell 'em how it'd be worse than Azkaban, to live nine years with the fat Muggle cow, being treated like a dog."

"You were her favorite dog," said Harry unsympathetically.

"Being treated like a pampered dog is still being treated like a dog," the wizard retorted. "If she hadn't given me a steady diet of brandy, I would have gone stark raving mad by now. You see what I mean, don't ya. I mean what sort of loony gives a dog brandy?"

"Wait a second," Harry scowled. "An animagus can turn into an animal at will. What did you need the wand for?"

"I ain't no animagus," the wizard growled sharply. "I'm in enough trouble without you accusing me of being an unregistered animagus. I transfigured myself…perfectly legal," he added with a glance at the judge. "Only I couldn't transfigure back without a wand. Awful grateful to get one in your kitchen."

"Why'd you attack me then?" Harry asked.

"Well, you don't get any news as a Muggle dog, do ya?" the wizard said. Harry did not see how that answered his question. "But your ears get keen. I heard that one boy mutter under his breath, 'she's worse than You-Know-Who returning.' And I figure after nine years of being tied up with your auntie, you ain't gonna trust me. Not after chasing you up that tree…"

Harry noticed the judge was looking at him strangely, as though wondering why Harry had not mentioned the Dursley's having a tree in their kitchen. "I stepped on his tail, when I was nine," he explained.

"Right, well, being a dog made me quite ornery," the wizard continued with a snigger. "Anyway, I figured, the way he said it, You-Know-Who must actually be back. And since Harry ain't gonna like me anyway, might as well make a go at getting back in the master's good graces. Probably wasn't the best plan, now that I've had time to think it over, but it made a lot of sense in that minute…course the old girl had given me some brandy to keep me quiet in the car, so my head was a bit muddled…"

Harry glanced back at Lupin who was still standing by the door. Lupin did not seem to know what to make of the man either. He was unnerving and tragic and comical all at once. Harry felt extremely odd, because the nine-year deception and the attempted murderer did not upset him. The anger he felt towards the man at the moment completely came from the downturn he had given to Harry's otherwise lovely party.

"I figure I got nine years pre-captivity for my crime and that ought to be considered. Come on, Harry. Tell them about her. Tell 'em what that woman was like."

The last thing Harry wanted to do was talk about Aunt Marge. "Can I go now?" he asked the judge.

"Oh, yes, certainly," the judge said. He apparently did not think pre-captivity was excuse for a crime either. The tattooed wizard became preoccupied with a gnat buzzing around his head and was trying to snap at it with his teeth. Harry remembered hearing that things could go horribly wrong when wizards tried to turn themselves into animals. Watching the tattooed wizard snort doggishly at the gnat cured Harry of any daydreams he might have had about becoming an animagus this year.

Lupin led Harry out of the courtroom and back to the lift. "Where are we going?" asked Harry. "I mean when you said 'home'. You didn't just mean the Ministry did you? You are taking me somewhere else for the summer?"

"Naturally," Lupin said. "But, not immediately. We still have a little more business at the Ministry first." He was smiling secretively. Harry doubted he meant to be frustrating, but he really wished that Lupin would just tell him where they were going.

The lift stopped on level six: the **Department of Magical Transportation. **Harry followed Lupin out of the lift, feeling curious and wondering if this had something to do with the portkey. They did not stop at the portkey office however but instead headed to the Apparition Test Center. "What are we doing here?" Harry asked. Anticipation and dread were mixing in his stomach. He really wanted to be able to Apparate, but he had no experience doing so.

"Well, you're old enough to get your license," Lupin said. "I thought it would be very useful."

Harry pressed his lips together as they went through the silver swinging-door. "But do you think I'm ready to take the test?"

"You won't be tested today," Lupin said. "We're just getting you a learning permit."

"I see," Harry said, feeling slightly disappointed and slightly relieved. He could imagine himself popping in and out of Diagon Alley, wowing Ron and making Hermione very jealous that he could do something before she could. Hermione's parents had been too nervous about Apparation to let her take the test. He also pictured himself making a mess of it and Apparating right into a wall. He had a funny image of his arm and leg sticking out from the wallpaper but did not want to think what that might do to his insides.

Getting the learning permit turned out to be simple. There was an unnecessarily long wait to fill out a very simple form. It demanded that he make a verbal statement as well, saying that he would only Apparate inside his place of residence and under the guidance of a licensed Apparator.

When their business was finished, they returned to the atrium where Mad-Eye Moody and Tonks were waiting for them. Harry guessed it was Tonks, anyway. It looked like a very Muggle businesswoman with a sharp chin, but she tripped on her heels when she spotted them. They got Harry's trunk and took the lift up to the London street level. Harry and Lupin lugged the trunk between them, which got them more than a few odd looks on the Underground.

Moody and Tonks deposited them at number twelve Grimmauld place, which Harry suspected was 'home'. He had mixed feelings about Grimmauld place. It was tied too closely to Sirius and his death. It was in many ways a gloomy structure, but it was also a safe one. He felt much less exposed here than he had at Privet Drive. No one had ever attacked him here. Dobby had moved in and was happily working for the Order as a freely employed House Elf.

Harry spent the rest of his summer Apparating from room to room under Lupin's watchful eye. It was an unusual sensation, but he was slowly getting the hang of it. He had a lingering fear of splinching himself and was very careful to remember all his body parts with each attempt.

He knew he should be worried about Voldemort's next move, but it was a little difficult to maintain an appropriate level of dread. Dobby kept bustling about him with at least three mismatching hats on his head (one on the top of his head and one on each of his long ears). He lost track of the days and was rather surprised when Lupin announced that it was time for him to return to Hogwarts.

Half the Weasley clan (Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, Ron and Ginny) and Hermione arrived early in the morning to escort him to Diagon Alley to buy his school supplies. "Have a good year, Harry, and keep your eyes open," Lupin said in way of a farewell.

Mr. Weasley must have come back in favor with the Ministry because a few blocks away from Grimmauld Place a Ministry car with a Ministry driver was waiting for them. Harry started to suspect that a lanky man in a bowler hat was following them, but he noticed the man had neon pink socks on under his tweed suit and figured that this again was Tonks providing a more discreet guard.

The attack by the dark wizard must have worried everyone else more than it did Harry. The last time the Ministry had sent a car for him it had been to protect him from a mass murderer who had escaped Azkaban prison. Later it had turned out the supposed 'murderer' was actually his godfather, and Harry had not been in any danger from him. As far as Harry could tell, Voldemort had not made any attempts on him at all this summer, which seemed very strange after the chaos of last year. It would not have been the first time that Voldemort had bided his time for a particular moment. If the Dark Lord had any redeemable qualities, his patience was one. Harry did not mind the attention, but he wished everyone did not look so serious.

They took the car to the Leaky Cauldron where the Weasley twins met them. Harry realized he had never had a chance to thank them for knocking the dark wizard off of him. When he said something, Fred Weasley grandly waved off the gratitude, "All in the line of duty. Besides that's old news."

George bought everyone a round of whatever drink they were in the mood for, and they all sat around two pushed together tables.

"Business must be good at the joke shop," Hermione added after thanking them for the drink.

"Oh, no…well, yeah," said Fred. "But he just wants to soften the blow."

"What do you mean?" Harry asked.

"It's awful really," Fred continued.

"Oh, yeah, a travesty," George said dryly. He looked up, which may have been an eye rolling gesture or may have been in response to the teacup flying overhead.

"What's happened, boys?" Mr. Weasley asked, beginning to sound worried.

"Nothing to me," Fred said. "I'm completely in the clear."

"I fear that I'm in a great deal of trouble," George told them. He did not sound worried, but then the Weasley twins always seemed to stay in a great deal of trouble. Trouble had not fazed them in years.

"What have you done?" Mrs. Weasley demanded.

"Relax, mum," George said.

"As I understand, it was unintentional," Fred added, flicking a little sugar into his ginger soda.

"Well, completely unplanned, anyway," George amended, with a sigh. "I fear it's an end to my carefree days."

By now, everyone had realized the twins were playing with them. Hermione scowled at them. "Stop messing around. Harry still has to get his things before we catch the train at eleven."

Fred cleared his throat. "In that case, here's the thing…"

"I've gone and asked Angelina Johnson to marry me," George finished. "And she said 'yes'."

Mrs. Weasley put a hand up to cover her opened mouth. Mr. Weasley's eyebrows arched, and Harry could feel his doing the same. "Brilliant!" said Ron, looking appreciative. Hermione had a gaping expression similar to Mrs. Weasley's but did not cover it. Ginny stuffed her knuckles into her mouth to suffocate her giggling.

Fred rested his hand on his forehead with a tragic air. "Poor, girl. She's clearly confused. Doesn't remember that I was the one who took her to the Yule Ball."

"She remembers," George said.

"Are you sure she realized it was you who asked her?"

"Yes, she realized," George said firmly.

"Shame she feels she has to settle." Fred shook his head sympathetically.

Mrs. Weasley found her voice. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"Just did, mum."

"Only happened day before yesterday," said George.

"He didn't tell me 'til yesterday," said Fred with an offended air. "I mean we cracked out of the same egg didn't we? Should have told me right off."

"You were asleep," George insisted.

"Well, that's the sort of thing you wake a fellow up for!"

The questions and congratulations began to roll out, and Harry forgot the time until Hermione rapped the table. "It's almost nine," she said. "We really need to get Harry's things."

"I'll go," Harry said. He felt quite safe in Diagon Alley. As he stood however, seven other chairs scraped against the floor and everyone else got to their feet as well. He was worried that they might keep him fenced between their six redheads with Hermione taking point like a military scout, but they were more discreet than that. He learned that Ron and Hermione had already purchased all their school supplies, but everyone still had things they wanted to look at in the various shops. They kept a loose guard about him, sometimes wandering across the street or into a nearby shop, but no less than three of them would keep him directly in sight at all times. He found something touching about their devotion, though he was very glad it would just be for a couple of hours.

At least they seemed to be enjoying themselves now. George kept pointing out the most obnoxious patterns of everything, saying they would be lovely for the wedding, causing Mrs. Weasley to shudder. Hermione picked up two extra books at Flourish and Blotts. Ginny and Ron split the cost on a broom cleaning kit. Harry resisted buying several interesting knick-knacks by reminding himself that he might need his Galleons when he left Hogwarts. Not that he had time for frivolous purchases. No one rushed him, but Hermione kept checking her watch. Harry stuck to looking for his school supplies.

The Ministry car appeared again to take them to King's Cross. They reached the platform with twenty full minutes to spare. They stowed their trunks, said their goodbyes to Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, Fred, and George, and boarded the train. "Keep your eyes open, Harry," George shouted at him.

"And send us a Hogwarts toilet seat!" Fred added.

Harry did not know if it was coincidence or Ron and Hermione had arranged it, but the entire second car seemed to be filled by D.A. members. The D.A., of course, stood for Dumbledore's Army and was the semi-secret student resistance movement that Harry had started during his fifth year. He strongly suspected that most of the Hogwarts teachers were aware the meetings had continued into his sixth year, but they pretended not to notice. For many of the members, the D.A. had acted as a sort of substitute Defense Against the Dark Arts class, since the quality of teachers filling that roll varied greatly from year to year. A few members of the D.A. had actually fought in battles against the Death Eaters and even the Dark Lord himself. It was with this inner circle that Harry wanted to share his train compartment.

Sure enough, Luna Lovegood, who was always early for the train, was sitting in one of the second car compartments alone with a nervous looking Neville Longbottom. Ginny went to join them. Harry said hello and got them to save the remaining seats.

Harry donned his Head Boy badge and waited in the hall as Ron and Hermione went to the prefects' car for instructions. They took much longer than usual to return, and he gave up waiting to sit in the compartment by Ginny. After a few minutes the door opened and Harry looked up expecting to see his best friends. Instead a small girl in Slytherin robes entered the car.

"Sit there," she instructed an even smaller boy who must have been her brother. He must also have been a first year since he wore no house insignia. The boy sat obediently beside the door, and his sister sat on the side of the door opposite him. They were both stony faced and incredibly dark.

"Hey," Neville said. Harry began to object to the intrusion as well, but the girl turned her dark eyes on him, white pupils almost glowing in contrast to her skin. Her expression did not allow argument. It was far too old for her and gave Harry a slight chill. The children were quite small, and they left plenty of room for Ron and Hermione. The girl studied them for a moment, unmoving save her eyes, then she turned to stare at some point past her brother's head. The boy looked at them longer and more shyly, but his mouth stayed as unflinching as his sister's.

"Do you have names?" Luna asked them after a very long, very uncomfortable silence.

"I am Victoria Dey," the girl said in thickly accented but very clear speech. "This is Thomas." The boy lifted his hand to give them a shy wave. His sister's eye shot to him, and he dropped it again.

"I'm Luna Lovegood," Luna began.

"I know who you are," Victoria said sharply. This statement seemed to apply to all of them. Harry caught a flicker of what might have been disappointment in the boy's eyes. His sister had been at Hogwarts with them two years, but he would not know who any of them were.

"I'm Harry Potter," he introduced himself to the boy whose eyes widened slightly. "This is Neville Longbottom and Ginny Weasley." The boy nodded once to show he understood but did not change expression. "We're Gryffindors, Luna's a Ravenclaw. Do you know what house you'd like to be in?"

"I'll be in Slytherin," the boy said with the same round, heavy accent as his sister. He showed no anticipation or anxiety at the prospect. It was like he had told him that the sky was blue or water was wet, just one of those things that does not change.

Harry wanted to say more to him, but the dark gaze of the boy's sister had fallen on him. So he sat with the others in awkward silence, until Hermione and Ron made their appearance. Hermione entered the car first. She caught sight of the two children sitting like stone faced sentinels by the door and gave Harry a questioning look. Harry shrugged. So did Neville and Ginny. Luna had already started reading her fresh issue of _The Quibbler_ and did not bother to look up. Hermione shrugged as well and sat down beside Luna, and Ron took the seat next to her.

"Can you believe that git Malfoy didn't even bother showing up to the prefect car?" Ron snorted.

"Actually, you were supposed to be there too, Harry," Hermione said with a small smile. "But Padma said she could handle it without you. We figured you wouldn't want to have to deal with Malfoy right off."

"Only, he didn't show," Ron repeated. "We waited for him for ages before they went ahead and gave us instructions, and _those_ weren't any different from last year's."

"You don't suppose he missed the train?" Ginny asked.

"Draco Malfoy? He wouldn't miss eight teacher free hours to harass us," said Neville.

"Probably already prowling the rear cars," Ron growled. "Didn't want to leave his mates long enough for the formality of the meeting. Doesn't care who else it held up."

"Pansy was the one who held us up," Hermione said. "She didn't want to start without him…look, here's the trolley."

Harry, who wanted to lighten the mood, treated everyone to their choice off the trolley. He hesitated when it came to the Dey children, but the girl ordered her brother and herself a very cheap but sweet smelling tea. She sipped it with all the poise and formality of a small duchess, and her brother did his best to copy.

"Would you like me to find you a car with some more first years?" Hermione tried helpfully.

"This is fine," the Dey girl replied curtly.

Unable to get rid of them or engage them in conversation, Harry and his friends did their best to ignore the Deys. They settled into topics that were fairly safe. The upcoming Quidditch Season, the current articles in Luna's _Quibbler_, and the impending N.E.W.T. exams. Through the window they noticed Crabbe and Goyle pass. The brutish Slytherin seventh years stopped to look through the compartment window. Crabbe reached for the door handle but thought better of it, and they continued to the front of the train. They returned ten minutes or so later with lost expressions. Goyle opened the compartment door.

"Have you seen Draco?" he asked.

They all shook their heads, and Crabbe and Goyle looked even more desperate.

"Have you tried the prefect car?" suggested Hermione.

"We've looked everywhere," Crabbe said glumly.

"He isn't on the train," Goyle moaned.

"You don't suppose something's happened to him?" Ron said hopefully.

Crabbe and Goyle must have been truly distressed, because they did not even bother to glare at him.

"Have you tried the girls' bathroom?" Luna suggested.

The Slytherin giants considered this doubtfully, but closed the door and slunked away towards the rear of the train.

"Or he could be riding on top," Luna continued after they left. "I've thought about trying that…or clinging onto a side ladder…"

Hermione frowned. "Do you think it's possible he might not be coming to school this year?"

"Now, that would be an excellent birthday present," Harry said. "A whole year without Draco Malfoy."

"I'm not so sure about that," said Ginny. "Without him, the Slytherins might find themselves a decent seeker." Draco really was not a bad Quidditch player, but he was disliked enough that they all laughed, except Hermione who was still frowning thoughtfully.

"Surely _you_'re not worried about him!" Ron said, noticing her expression.

"Of course not," Hermione sniffed. "But if he has pulled out of Hogwarts, I'd like to know why. It could mean something bad."

"You know for a girl who has such a low opinion of divination, you sound an awful lot like Professor Trelawny," Ron retorted. "Predicting gloom and doom before the year's even started."

"I'm just saying that Malfoy has…" she glanced at the Dey children, who could certainly hear but did not seem to be listening to the conversation, "…connections that we don't. He's not the type to just drop out for kicks his last year. If he's really gone, then there's something up, and I want to know what." Harry knew she was right, but the prospect of a Malfoy free school year kept a small smile on his lips.

"Look, if Malfoy wants to go join up with You-Know-Who, let him," Ron growled, ignoring the Deys. "I say good riddance."

Hermione shot him a nasty look and stood up. "Come on, Ronald, we have to walk the corridors." She stalked out of the compartment. Ron stood with a resigned sigh. He told them that they would be back soon and followed Hermione into the hall.

"Speaking of birthday presents, Harry," Neville said, pulling a small wrapped box out of his pocket. "Sorry I missed your party. Gran hates cars. But I still wanted to give you this."

"Thanks," Harry said, taking the package. Ginny switched seats to sit beside Luna, so she could see Harry and Neville at the same time. Harry unwrapped the box and opened it to find it quite empty. "Um, Neville, not to complain or anything but…?"

"It's an invisible box," Neville said with a grin. At first Harry thought he might be joking, but Neville dumped the first box onto his hand and opened the lid. Harry could not see the lid of course, but he could see the inside lining of the box, which was red and velvety.

"Oh," Harry said, taking the invisible box into his own hand. Now that he could feel the box he judged it to be just large enough to hold his fist. He tried this and watched his hand disappear. "Wicked."

Neville's grin broadened. "I know it's kind of small, but the big ones are really expensive and very easy to trip over. This one you could stick in your trunk or cabinet."

"Can I see it?" Ginny asked, stretching out her hand.

"No," Harry said, handing her the box. This got a brief chuckle from Neville and sent Luna into a prolonged fit of laughter.

"I want to 'not see it' too," Luna chirped, when she had recovered herself.

In time, Hermione and Ron came back and left again. They did this in cycles until the train ride was over. Ginny seemed to be ready to start talking D.A. business, but the presence of the Slytherin girl stopped her. The Dey children kept to their seats, except when the boy slipped out for a few minutes. Most likely to use the toilet, though he did not say a word as he left or returned. Harry caught them watching the older students occasionally, but they did not speak, not even to each other. Nor did they laugh or react in any way other than stony-faced silence.

He was very glad when the train ride ended, and they were able to climb into the thestral driven carriages. Victoria Dey did not follow them, which was a relief. The boy, Thomas, of course would ride the lantern lit boats across the lake with the other first years.

As the carriages released them, they were swept towards the castle by the wave of students. "I'm starving," Harry said as they reached the entry hall. Ron and Hermione had managed to stay beside him, but Ginny had been swept away with some sixth year girls. He was not sure what had taken Luna and Neville.

"I'm wondering if tonight would be too early for a D.A. meeting," Hermione said in a low voice.

"Far too early," Harry said. He wanted to cut off that idea before it got rolling. They could set one for the coming weekend, after he had a chance to go through all his classes. "Let's let everyone unpack first."

Ron stopped and pointed across the crowd at the stairs. "There he is," said Ron disappointedly. Harry and Hermione followed his finger to see Draco Malfoy coming down the stairs towards them.

Draco noticed that they were staring, but they did not seem to be the ones for whom he was searching. "Hi," he said distractedly as he passed. They watched him push his way through the crowd to Crabbe and Goyle, who seemed very relieved.

"Hi?" Hermione echoed with a short laugh. Harry and Ron exchanged shrugs, and Harry encouraged them all towards the Great Hall. They took seats at the Gryffindor long table near the door and were soon surround by the other seventh year students.

Dean and Seamus must have told everyone about the attack at Harry's party because Lavender Brown began assaulting him with questions about it the moment they sat down. Harry answered a few things, then Dean and Seamus took over the narrative and made the whole thing sound far more exciting than it was.

"Who do you think's teaching Defense this year?" said Hermione.

Harry strained his eyes about the Great Hall looking for the new face that would be this years Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, but he found no one new at the staff table. More surprisingly he could not find one of the usual faces. There was an empty chair where a dark scowl should have been. Professor Snape was missing.

"You don't think they've finally sacked him?" Ron said hopefully. He must have noticed too.

"Or he's gone undercover full time," Hermione suggested in a low voice.

Harry did not say anything. He felt that he could not possibly be this lucky. To be able to enjoy a whole year without Professor Snape was beyond his expectations, much better than the prospect of a year without Malfoy and more feasible.

The sorting ceremony had begun, and Harry applauded as each new Gryffindor joined the table. Thomas Dey was sorted into Slytherin as he had predicted and looked neither overjoyed nor disappointed by this. When all the first years had been sorted, the feast began. Harry stuffed himself on meats and sweets.

"Our last year," Ron said. "Can you believe it?"

"It had to come eventually," Hermione said, dropping a heap of mashed potatoes onto her plate.

"And Harry's Head Boy," Ron said, looking proudly at his best friend.

Harry grinned, trying to look modest.

"Such a shock," Lavender Brown said through a mouthful of bread. "Who's Head Girl anyway?"

"Padma Patil," Hermione supplied curtly.

"Oh," Dean said. "Good thing for you, Harry. Padma's the prettiest girl in school. It's a legend that the Head Boy and Head Girl always get married. Hey!" Padma's identical twin Parvati Patil must have kicked him under the table. "Ouch, you should be taking that as a compliment too you know."

"That's rubbish," Hermione said. "They can't pair up every year."

Harry flushed and engrossed himself in his plate. His mom and dad had left school as Head Boy and Head Girl of their class and gotten married straight out of school. Harry had trouble picturing being that sure of someone that young. His age. He was just hoping to survive this year. Romance and true love seemed like very alien concepts. Of course, his parents had probably had a far more normal time at Hogwarts. As far as he knew Voldemort had never tried to kill them while they were still at school. Fewer attempts on their life and no reporters following on their heels must have left more time for relationships.

It was not that Harry did not like girls. He had made attempts to start something with Cho Chang and generally came out more frustrated than anything. Cho had left school last year, which took her out of Harry's range for the moment anyway. He _had_ noticed that Hermione and Ginny were both getting very nice to look at, not that he would tell Ron that. Harry just did not see much point in pursuing romance with anyone. Right now he needed friends and allies. He wanted to keep his life as simple as possible, since Voldemort was doing just the opposite.

The feast ended, and Dumbledore began his start of term announcements.

"I would like to remind our first years that the Forbidden Forest is forbidden. Professor Sinistra will be approving all school clubs this term. Quidditch Trials will be held the second week of school and any interested in playing on the house teams should sign up. Mr. Filch would like me to remind you that there is to be no magic in the halls between classes, and we have had to place a ban on canary custards as they have excited Madam Pince's allergies. I'm sure some of you have been wondering about our Potions Master. Not to worry, Professor Snape is just a little late returning from his summer vacation. He assures me that he will be here tomorrow to start his classes on time."

"Drat," muttered Ron. "I knew it was too good to be true."

Harry nodded sagely.

"And finally, Slytherins, after you escort the first years to the dormitories, I need you to send a prefect to my office. They'll be picking up a transfer student who is joining your house this year."

"A transfer student?" Hermione repeated. "That's very unusual."

"You are all dismissed. First years please follow the prefects to your dormitories."

"I wonder why they didn't come to the start of term feast," Parvati mused while getting out of her seat.

"Another Slytherin," Ron said in disgust. "I don't know whether to feel sorry for them or just be worried."

"Harry, don't look now," said Neville. "But Draco Malfoy's staring at you."

Harry turned to look, but Draco had snapped his head back around. He turned back to Neville and shrugged.

"He had a funny look on his face," Neville said, as though to explain why this was different from the thousand other times Draco had glared at Harry.

"Oh really?" said Hermione. "Must mean he's breathing." The Gryffindors within earshot laughed, except Neville. Hermione tapped her prefect badge to signal Ron, and they wandered off towards the first years. Harry joined the other Gryffindors in their surge towards Gryffindor tower.

"Harry," came a voice from behind him. Harry paused. It was Parvati…no, Padma. "I don't know if it means anything, but I overheard Draco Malfoy say that you were in for a shock this year. And you know what his family is."

"Thanks," Harry said. "But threats from Malfoy are pretty standard. He tried to kill me last year, you know."

Padma lifted an annoyed eyebrow. "I'm trying to help. Just keep your eyes open."

Why did everyone keep telling him that? Harry made himself smile. "Congratulations on making Head Girl."

"Thanks," Padma grinned. "Same to you. Boy that is."

Harry waited for Ron and Hermione in the common room. He had the same sense of being home that he usually felt at Hogwarts, but it was tinged with the sad realization that this would be his last year to call Hogwarts home. He had a vague plan of applying for Auror training after graduation, but he did not know what that would mean exactly. How did they live day to day? He wished he had asked Tonks more about it during the summer. He supposed he could still write her.

Ron and Hermione herded the first years into the common room along with the other prefects. Harry spent the rest of the evening in their company to distract himself from brooding.

o

* * *

o

Night faded, and morning came bringing breakfast and their new class schedules. Harry had Charms in the morning and Defense Against the Dark Arts that afternoon. Professor Flitwick, the Charms teacher, was a pleasant person to start the week with, but Harry was extremely curious about who had the Dark Arts position. Particularly since every Dark Arts teacher had attacked him at some point, including Professor Lupin. He had Transfiguration on Tuesday, Potions on Wednesday, and Care of Magical Creatures on Friday.

Hermione pointed out a large puff of silver hair at the Slytherin table, which must have been their new transfer student. There seemed to be a girl under it. She glanced at Harry but quickly looked away. Harry wondered why the Slytherins always looked so funny.

Hermione shared all of Harry's classes and was taking Arithmancy, Ancient Ruins, and Astronomy on top of them. She had told Harry she thought he was cutting it close, since five N.E.W.T.s was a minimum to become an Auror, but Harry needed 'E's or better in all those subjects and would rather concentrate on getting a few right than bungling a load of them. Ron shared all of Harry's classes except Potions. He had not gotten the O.W.L. he needed to get into the advanced class and had claimed he could not stand two more years of Snape anyway.

Harry would have gladly dropped Potions if not for his Auror ambitions. Hermione just seemed to have a masochistic streak when it came to classes. After Harry and Neville, she was Snape's favorite target. Harry was still astounded that Neville had made it into Advanced Potions, and more so that he had willingly taken the class. Neville was determined to be a Healer and refused to let Snape daunt him.

Draco Malfoy took Charms as well. He was unusually quiet during the class. Harry had expected him to turn his absence from the train into an exciting story to wow the Slytherin girls, but from the other whispers circulating, Harry gathered he had not explained his disappearance to anyone. Harry did catch Malfoy glancing repeatedly in his direction during the lesson, but there was none of the usual malice in his grey eyes.

o

* * *

o

It was a bright, pleasant day. Harry, Ron and Hermione decided to take their lunch break under a tree in the courtyard.

"There's that new Slytherin girl," Ron said, indicating the other side of the courtyard with a nod.

Harry looked up and saw the girl wave goodbye to some of the other sixth years. Except for the silver hair, which stuck out in all directions, she looked sixteen. As she came closer, he saw that she had a pleasant, round face and was a little on the short side. She jogged towards them, clasping a book to her chest, and stopped in front of their tree.

"You're Harry, right? Harry Potter?" she said breathlessly.

Harry suppressed a groan. He was used to first years coming up to him with similar excitement at meeting famous Harry Potter. He had never liked being gawked at, but he tried to take her interest good-naturedly. "Yup, I've got the scar and everything," he said lightly. Hermione put on a bemused smile. Ron was trying hard not to roll his own eyes.

"Oh, yes," the girl said with mild interest and looked at his forehead. "They told me about that." She shook her head as though to clear it. She shifted her book to her side and put her free hand to her chest. "I'm Persephone," she said brightly and looked at him expectantly.

"Um, hi," Harry said. Hermione was pressing her lips together very tightly. Persephone had apparently been expecting more of a reaction to her name. She looked down and bit her lip. "This is Hermione Granger and Ron Weasley," Harry continued, not wanting to be rude.

"Right," Persephone said, not sounding very interested in Ron or Hermione. "Pleased to meet you. Um, Harry, do you think that we could-?" She cut off and looked curiously at Ron who was staring past her with an intense frown.

"There's Snape," Ron muttered. Harry followed Ron's gaze to see Professor Snape walking in their direction. His black robes were billowing behind him like a dark cloud descending on their picnic. He was sticking to the walkway, avoiding the sun, and reminding Harry of a vampire. He was still a good distance away, and Harry hoped he would turn off before he reached them.

Persephone turned around to see what they were all looking at. "Severus!" she yelped and took off in a run towards Professor Snape. Harry, Ron, and Hermione watched with dropped jaws as she threw her arms around Snape's midsection. The only person more surprised than themselves was Professor Snape who was doubtless not used to being hugged by anyone, much less a student. He held his arms up in the air for a moment, frozen with shock, then pried Persephone off of him.

"She's mental!" Ron gaped.

Persephone was speaking animatedly, bouncing on her heels and making broad gestures with her arms. She was too far away for them to catch what she was saying. Snape maintained his expression of shock, but after a few minutes, he regained his ability to move. He took Persephone by the shoulder and led her inside the castle.

"She knows his name," said Hermione. "Maybe he knows her family."

"He didn't look like he was expecting her," said Harry. "She didn't seem to expect him for that matter."

Hermione, at a loss, shrugged. "Do you know who we have for Dark Arts?"

"I've got my money on a vampire," Ron said. "Check to see if all the windows are closed when we enter the room."

"Surely Dumbledore wouldn't invite a vampire in," Harry chuckled, but even as he said it he felt uncertain. "I suppose I should stock up on my garlic."

"Harry could teach the class," Hermione said. "Of course, then you'd end up attacking yourself before the year's out."

Ron slapped his legs and stood. "Well, I'm all set for another uneventful year at Hogwarts. Shall we go face it?"

Harry laughed. The idea of his applying for the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher position played in his mind for a few minutes. He half liked the image. He had never fancied himself a professor, but that was almost precisely what he had been doing in the D.A. meetings. Wouldn't Snape hate him then? But his determination to be an Auror was stronger. He was tired of waiting for things to come after him. Very tired of always being on the defensive.

Dread held back by the friends at his side, Harry made his way to the Dark Arts classroom with Ron and Hermione a few minutes early. They took the center seats on the front row, so they could examine their new professor closely. The rest of the students filed into the class. Harry watched Draco Malfoy take the front desk near the window.

"What are you doing here?" Ron demanded.

"I'm taking the class," Malfoy drawled.

"But you can't!" Ron protested. "You weren't in it last year."

Malfoy shrugged and turned away to open his textbook.

"Why weren't you on the train?" Harry demanded.

"Patience Potter, you'll find out soon enough," Malfoy muttered vaguely, not looking at him. Harry did not like the sound of that, but he wondered if Draco was just trying to get a rise out of him.

"I'm keeping my eye on you," Ron spat.

Malfoy laughed coldly. "Oh, well, that's enough to make me quake in my boots." Ron sat tensely waiting for the insult to his family that would inevitably follow, but it did not come. Malfoy seemed to be very engrossed in his text.

Hermione was acting as if Malfoy was not there. Harry figured she did not want to get into a row with him on her first day back. No one liked being called a Mudblood, even if there was nothing wrong with having Muggle parents. They waited another five minutes.

"You don't suppose he's invisible," said Hermione, indicating the empty teacher's desk.

"That would explain why we didn't see him at the feast," said Harry.

"I wonder if…" Ron began, but it was nine o'clock exactly. The door at the rear of the room opened and in strode Professor Dumbledore. Harry was a little surprised to see the headmaster. Perhaps he was going to explain their absentee teacher.

"It has been a long time," Professor Dumbledore said as he strode across the room. "Since I last taught a class at Hogwarts. But I assure you that I do have some experience and am well qualified."

Harry felt a very nice sensation spread through him, as though a rainbow had sprung up and wrapped itself around him. He could not think of anyone in the world he would rather have teaching him Defense Against the Dark Arts other than Albus Dumbledore, and even in his worst nightmares, he could never picture Dumbledore attacking him for any reason.

Dumbledore stopped at the front of the class and surveyed the students, many of whom were as happy and awestruck as Harry. "All present, I see. Mr. Malfoy will be joining us this year. I'm sure you can help him catch up, Mr. Nott," he addressed a skinny Slytherin boy who had taken the seat next to Draco. "Now, let's get right to it. Harry, if you would please come up here, I'd like to attack you."

He said this so kindly in his breathy voice that it took a moment for Harry to register what he had said. He got slowly to his feet and walked around the desk to Dumbledore. Hermione must have understood his hesitation for her own eyes were wide with wonder, and Ron had a cocked eyebrow.

"Stand right there, Harry," Dumbledore instructed. "Everyone else turn your books to page thirty-seven." There was a shuffling of paper as the students found their place. Harry strained his eyes, trying to read Hermione's book upside down so that he could discover what page thirty-seven held for him. He made out the word 'Curses' but had trouble with the rest of it.

"Now, Harry," said Dumbledore, and Harry turned his attention to the headmaster. "What in your mind is the most logical defense against darkness?"

"A light, sir," Harry said, feeling very obvious.

"Very good," Dumbledore said. "I'm going to use a darkness curse on you, Harry. I want you to think about the best way to defend yourself." He turned to the rest of the class. "Does anyone have suggestions for Harry?"

Hands flew up and a few people shouted out answers without waiting for Dumbledore to call on them. He tried to make out Hermione's suggestion among the others, but she was watching raptly and for once not saying anything. She must have thought Harry could handle this on his own.

After everyone had had their say, Dumbledore turned to Harry. "Ready?" Harry nodded. "_Obscuratis._" Darkness engulfed Harry, and he raised his wand. Though he believed his wand and arm were there, none of his other senses confirmed it. It gave him the peculiar feeling of floating.

"_Lumos_," Harry said, and his wand glowed brightly. He blinked as his eyes adjusted, but found that he could see everything.

"Well done, Harry," said Dumbledore. "You may have a seat. _Lumos_ is the simplest countercurse to an _Obscuring Curse_. However it is not the only defense available. Let us experiment with some others." Harry sat back down and watched as other students were called up to take part in the experiments and wrapped in dark clouds. Afterwards Dumbledore had them discuss the pros and cons of each defense. Draco Malfoy pointed out that _Lumos_ left the defender temporarily blinded from the flash while the cloud dissipated. Harry suggested that closing your eyes while speaking the spell would allow them to adjust more quickly.

Dumbledore ended the lesson by giving them the assignment to read two chapters and return with three questions each. Harry felt a lot better about the prospects for his survival as he left the classroom.

o

* * *

o

Harry sat down to breakfast Wednesday morning with the other Gryffindor Seventh Years. He was shoveling a fork full of eggs into his mouth when Luna Lovegood took the empty seat across from Ron.

"Hello, Ronald," she said.

"Um, hi," Ron replied from Harry's right.

"I've decided that you can take me to the Leaving Dance," she told Ron breezily.

Ron nearly choked on his eggs. "That's not 'til June." Luna did not react to this, but watched Ron with her silver pop-eyes. "And isn't it traditional for the boy to ask the girl?"

"Oh, I don't mind," Luna said. Ron looked about for help. "You will take me, right Ron?"

Ron's face contorted into an expression that Harry found very funny, but he did his best not to laugh. "I don't even want to think about it until after Christmas!" Ron exclaimed. Luna shrugged indifferently.

"Hello, Persephone," Harry said, as the Slytherin girl approached the table.

"Hey, Harry, I need to tell you…" she began, and then she stopped. A funny look came over her face, and she turned to Hermione who was on the other side of Ron. "You should move that glass. It will get broken if you leave it there," she said quietly as though half-awake. She wandered off, rubbing her temples as if she had a sudden headache.

Hermione glanced at her goblet, which was safely near the center of the table.

"Mental," Ron muttered in astonishment.

"She is a little odd," Dean Thomas said from Harry's left.

"Is that the new Slytherin transfer?" Luna asked watching Persephone's back curiously.

"I assume so," Harry said.

"Huh…" said Luna.

"Not to be rude, Luna, but don't you think you should eat breakfast at the Ravenclaw table?" said Hermione.

"Oh, I've already eaten," Luna said, waving her hand dismissively. "I wanted to show you something." She spread a copy of _The Quibbler_ out on the table and pointed to an article on the second page.

Harry turned the paper around so that they could read. Dean and Neville leaned in as well.

**Re-Evaluating the Yeti:**

**Savages or Pyramid Builders?**

He started to ask Luna what was so relevant about Yetis when he saw the article beneath it.

**Heartache of a Death Eater's Son:**

**Malfoy-Muggle Scandal in the Making?**

Draco Malfoy is the only son of known Death Eater Lucius

Malfoy, who escaped from Azkaban Prison last year.

Draco is reported by his classmates at Hogwarts, where he

is entering his seventh year, to share his father's disdain for

Muggles and Muggle-borns.

_OR DOES HE?_

Sources in Newbury say that young Malfoy was

spotted there with a Muggle girl. Malfoy was dressed in

Muggle clothing and observed checking into a Muggle hotel

with his young companion. Is this one night stand a

meaningless fling for a wealthy playboy or does he harbor

pro-Muggle sympathies?

"It makes sense that he's leading a double life," said

a Hogwarts student, who preferred to remain nameless.

"He always seemed a bit over the top with the anti-Muggle-

born slurs. If he's got a Death Eater for a dad, you could

understand why he's afraid to socialize openly with anyone

but pure bloods."

"Oh, _Draco Malfoy_ loves Muggles, if you know

what I mean," says post-witch Adalade Pickwick. "He's

got a Muggle girl waiting for him in all the major towns in

England and few hamlets."

Is it love, lust, or simply teenage rebellion compelling

young Malfoy to defy generations of pureblood Malfoy

lineage? The Malfoys were unavailable for comment.

Harry could not help laughing. He rarely believed a single word printed in _The Quibbler_, but he had been the victim of equally absurd press. Draco had always been envious of Harry's fame, and he wondered how Malfoy would enjoy this taste of it.

The other Gryffindors passed the article around, enjoying Draco's scandal almost as much as he did, though they seemed more willing to believe it.

"His mother sent mine an owl a week before school started," Parvati Patil said, after looking over the article. "He ran off, and she was in a panic. Look at the date. It fits!"

Harry spotted Malfoy as he entered the Great Hall. Malfoy glanced at the commotion at the Gryffindor table but did not seem to think much of it.

"Hey, Malfoy, is it true?" Seamus Finnigan shouted at him. "Were you at the hotel?"

Malfoy stopped in his tracks. "What?" He changed direction to come to the Gryffindor table. He scowled at the Gryffindors who were watching him with scandalized delight. "What are you talking about?"

"You finally got your name in the paper," Harry said, pushing _The Quibbler_ toward him.

Draco snatched up the paper. His expression went blank as he read the article.

"Did you really take a girl to a hotel?" asked Ron, almost sounding impressed through his disgust.

"Oh, sure," Draco said dully, still scanning the article. "I kept her in my bedroom for a month or so. Then I got worried my parents might find her, so I took her to a hotel."

The Gryffindors, who had been expecting Draco to deny the whole thing, gazed at him in shock. "You're not serious?" said Hermione.

Draco looked up from the article and frowned. "Don't be a bunch of gits," he snapped. "I have never been in a hotel with a Muggle girl!"

"That's not what the paper says," smirked Luna.

Draco turned on her. "You're father prints this rubbish, right?" he shot at her, curling the paper in his hand.

"It's not rubbish," Luna retorted. "Just because you don't like the truth getting out."

"Truth?" Malfoy was starting to look livid. "Fine bit of journalism. They made it all up. Unnamed 'Hogwarts student'. Unnamed 'Sources'. 'Unavailable for comment'-like they even tried to contact me- What sort of name is 'Adalade Pickwick'? Is that even a real person?" Several of the Gryffindors, Harry included, were having trouble holding back their snickers. Draco pointed the curled paper at Luna. "Make your dad print a retraction, _or_-"

"_Or_ what?" Luna sniffed, looking bored. "Your dad will come out of hiding to set him straight?"

Draco's eyes narrowed dangerously and down the table a goblet exploded. There was complete silence as they all stared at Hermione's shattered glass. Pieces of it littered the tabletop. A particularly large piece was lodged into Hermione's hand, which was bleeding.

"I didn't mean to," Malfoy said shakily, his face slack. Hermione stood, clasping the wrist of her injured right hand with her left, and looked as shocked as the rest of them. Harry had never seen another student completely lose control of their powers while at Hogwarts, particularly not a seventh year. "I'm sorry," Draco said flatly, reaching for Hermione's injured hand.

Harry had a feeling Malfoy's embarrassment at losing control had more to do with the apology than any concern for Hermione. Hermione must have felt the same way. "Don't touch, me!" she snapped, pulling her hand out of his reach. "I'm going to see Madam Pomfrey."

"I'll go with you," Ron said. He stood, glaring angrily at Malfoy.

Harry considered following but decided he might best stay in case they were late for class. "I'll get your notes," he said, not taking his eyes off Malfoy.

Malfoy watched Ron and Hermione leave, looking ready to follow them, probably wanting to dissuade them from reporting his involvement in the matter. He must have realized that was impossible, because he stayed rooted in place. When they left the Great Hall, Malfoy's expression regained some of its fury, and he turned back to Luna. "Retract it," he spat, throwing the paper at her lap.

Luna caught the paper and kept her smug smirk as Draco stalked off. Harry wished she had not set him off. He knew Madam Pomfrey could fix Hermione up just fine, but he hated to see her hurt. He left the rest of his breakfast untouched and picked up his books.

"I can get Hermione's Arithmancy notes," Parvati volunteered.

"Thanks," Harry said.

o

* * *

o

Harry spent his morning pouring over his potions text and trying not to think about the piece of glass sticking out of Hermione's hand. By the time Potions rolled around, Hermione had reappeared with her hand in a bandage. Though insisting that she was fine and the bandage was just a precaution, Hermione still allowed Harry to set up her cauldron for her. Malfoy for his part was trying very hard not to look at either of them.

Professor Snape started off the class by making the completely expected but still unhappy announcement that he would be grading all their assignments as if they were taking their N.E.W.T.s. "Well," he said with a predatory curl of his lip and began pacing. "Let's see if you're taking your lessons seriously this year. Mr. Longbottom?" Neville twitched. "What do you get when you add dragons blood to a mixture of powdered Graphorn horn and amber gris?"

"I don't know, sir," Neville said, hoping to advert complete disaster by not guessing.

"How unsurprising," Snape said dryly, not breaking stride. "Potter, same question."

Harry was used to these pop quizzes Snape used as excuses for torture. He had read his potions text over twice, determined to beat Snape at his own game, and had to stop himself from smiling. He _knew_ this. "A _Patafacere Potion_. It's used to detect several otherwise untraceable poisons."

Snape stopped pacing and turned his black eyes on Harry. "This is a first," he said slowly. "It seems Mr. Potter has actually read his text this year. Five points for Gryffindor."

Harry blinked, not sure he had heard right. Had Snape just given Harry five points? He did say 'for' and not 'from'. Harry had taken potions with Professor Snape for six years now, and Snape had never given Harry so much as a single point. He had often taken points from Hermione for giving the right answer. The surprise must have shown on Harry's face because Snape raised his eyebrows. "Is there a problem, Mr. Potter?"

"No, sir," Harry stammered. A wicked smile played on Snape's lips, but he went back to asking random questions to the other students. Harry held his breath for the rest of class, sure that Snape was playing with him, sure he would find some excuse to take ten points from Gryffindor to leave them with a negative five. But Harry finished the class with his five points intact.

Hermione and Neville seemed just as shocked as Harry. "But he _never_ gives Gryffindors points," Neville said breathlessly when they were safely away from the Potions classroom.

Snape's good humor lasted through their next class as well. The change was not dramatic. He was still strict and severe, unwilling to give out large point rewards. Harry's five were an anomaly. He still picked on Neville and Harry, but it must not have held the same relish for him it did in the past because the loathing seemed to have gone out of his cruelty. Hermione strangely enough seemed to have fallen into his good graces. He actually called on her a handful of times to answer questions and did not bite her head off for knowing the answers.

Harry said something to Ron about it later in the Gryffindor common room. "I know," Ginny said. "He's actually been smiling in our class. And I don't mean that nasty sneer thing either, I mean a real smile."

"Professor Snape can smile?" Ron said in astonishment.

Ginny nodded. "I'm not complaining, but it's _weird_."

Snape's change in behavior was not anything compared to Draco Malfoy's. It was not so much anything that Malfoy did, but more what he was not doing. Draco had never lost an opportunity to taunt and ridicule Harry. Last year had been particularly vicious. So far this term however Malfoy was unusually quiet and withdrawn. He was even showing bursts of consideration, which was very unnerving.

The day after the glass incident, Hermione had dropped her books on the way to Charms. Harry had stopped to help her only to find someone else already doing it. Draco handed two volumes to a surprised Hermione. "It was an accident, you know," he told her before slipping off. Hermione had gotten Harry to help her check the books over in case Malfoy had slipped something into them. They poked them with their wands, using the tips to flip open the covers. Malfoy caught sight of them doing this from across the classroom, and Harry saw his mouth puff with choked laughter. In the end, they found nothing wrong with Hermione's books.

"He's trying to lure us into a false sense of security," said Ron. "He's plotting something."

Even Draco did not act as strangely as the new Slytherin transfer student. Persephone made half a dozen more half-hearted attempts to talk to Harry. She ambushed him eagerly but was easily distracted. During one attempt Hagrid came up to say hello to Harry, and Persephone ended up engaging him in conversation instead. Another time it was Nearly Headless Nick, then a sixth year Hufflepuff girl, the disquieting Victoria Dey Harry had met on the train, a suddenly remembered assignment she had left in the library. During the last attempt, she had seen Professor Trelawny and fled in the opposite direction.

For his part, Harry did not feel too eager to speak privately with her. He had a dread that she wanted him to sign something. Hermione and Ron thought the Slytherins were setting up an elaborate trap for Harry, and Persephone was either in on it or being used as bait. Hermione proposed that she may have been in on the whole glass incident, and Harry thought that was feasible. Ginny had her own theories.

"I think she fancies you," Ginny told him as the four of them sat around a table in the Gryffindor common room. Harry and Ron were playing a game of wizards chess, while Hermione did her homework, and Ginny polished her broom handle.

"I don't know her!" Harry protested. "She doesn't know me."

"Have you noticed anything funny about her?" Hermione asked. "She's a sixth year too isn't she?"

Ginny nodded. "We've got four classes together, and she sits next to me in History of Magic."

"Advanced History of Magic," Ron said with a shudder.

"It's not so bad," Ginny said.

"But is there anything odd about her?" Hermione repeated.

"You mean aside from the hair? No-I don't think so," Ginny said. She paused. "Well, yeah. It's not her so much, she's nice enough, but the teachers act funny around her."

"How so?"

"It's like they all know her…or know something about her. McGonagall almost started crying when she saw her first day in Transfiguration." Ginny sniffed and did an impersonation of McGonagall. " '_So good to have you with us, Ms. P.'_ Same with Professor Flitwick. She's a favorite with Professor Snape, too. Of course her hand stays up in the air, and he likes the people who know everything."

"Since when?" Hermione demanded.

"Since always," Ginny said. "I mean he'll go all cranky if you shout stuff out, but he likes the people who raise their hands a lot."

Hermione just blinked at her.

"She does the same thing in Professor Binns' class," Ginny continued. "She interrupts his lecture at least fifteen times per class, asking questions. It's really good though, because a lot of it is stuff I'm having trouble with too. I think she might be slowing us down a bit, but it's lot easier to stay awake. A few other people picked up on it, and we sort of had a class discussion last time. I never realized Professor Binns actually _liked_ history before."

Hermione still looked like she was having trouble with the idea that Professor Snape liked people who raised their hands.

"Although he said something funny too." Ginny titled her head trying to recall the exact words. "It was the first time she asked a question. He turned around and said, 'Ah, Persephone, when did you get back?' I thought it was funny, because it was the first class, and he used her first name. Though I guess Dumbledore could have introduced her to the staff…or she could have gone to his office."

"Everyone knew me," Harry said. The chess game was taking more of his attention than the conversation. He was trying to think five moves ahead and had a feeling that Ron was thinking six.

"Yes," Hermione said. "But you're famous."

"What does Binns need with an office?" Ron blurted.

Ginny shrugged. "I wonder if he still gets a salary. I mean what would a ghost do with a salary?"

"It might go to his descendants," Hermione said. "The living ones."

Harry tried to force himself to think seven steps ahead but gave up and took Ron's knight with his bishop. He watched the pieces struggle with each other, then caught Ron's secretive grin. Harry sighed. Usually that grin meant Harry would loose the match, but he refused to give up before the deed was done.

"What makes you think that she fancies me?" he asked Ginny.

"She asks a lot of questions about you," Ginny said.

"What sort of questions?" Hermione closed her textbook.

"This and that," Ginny said. "Everything from your favorite color to 'did he really fight Voldemort single-handed?' to 'does he have a girlfriend?'"

"Did she really say Voldemort's name?" Hermione asked sharply.

Ginny looked surprised. "She did, come to think of it. That's a little strange, isn't it?"

"That makes me like her better," Harry said, as Ron took one of his pawns with his Queen.

"Do you want me to set up a meeting for you, Harry?" said Ginny, sounding much more interested in Harry's love life than he was.

"I don't think it's a good idea for you to be alone with her," Hermione cautioned. "Not until we know more about her."

"I'm not in any rush to be alone with her," said Harry, moving his king to safety. "Why don't we set up our first D.A. meeting?"


	5. The Slytherins

**Disclaimer:** This story is based on the Harry Potter novels written by J.K. Rowling. All characters created by J.K. Rowling are owned by J.K. Rowling. The few characters created by me (i.e. Persephone, Hotchet, Kagome…) belong to me, but are available for use in other fics as long as I get credited as their creator. None of us are making any money off this and no infringement is intended.

o

* * *

o

**Level 2.3: The Slytherins**

The truly exasperating thing about Albus Dumbledore was that he always seemed to be right about things.

The greatest wizard in the world, Albus Dumbledore. The headmaster of the most prestigious wizarding school, Albus Dumbledore. The one wizard who frightened Voldemort, Albus Dumbledore. Founder and head of his own secret army, who had casually turned down the job as Minister of Magic, Albus Dumbledore. Just being over one hundred and fifty gave him a certain sageness.

But no matter how many accomplishments the man had, Draco could not bring himself to admire him. He respected him, grudgingly, but he was extremely suspicious of anyone so apparently perfect. A lot of it had to do with his father, he knew. Lucius Malfoy had never had a kind word to say about Dumbledore. After a steady diet of Dumbledore's faults for seventeen years, it was impossible for Draco to trust the man completely. But after three days of nothing to do but stroll about the castle and think about his present state, Draco did not trust his father's estimation of Dumbledore. He was not sure he trusted his father's estimation of anything, and since Draco had built his own perspectives on his parents', this left him very confused.

He had resigned himself to stay at Hogwarts. As Dumbledore had pointed out, where else would he go? At least he understood this small world, though even it seemed new and strange to him. He could follow its schedules and patterns. The feeling of safety he had spent the past six years building within these walls did not completely abandon him.

Persephone spent her first day in the medical ward being fussed over by Madam Pomfrey. Draco had gone with her to treat his cuts but had not stayed long. When Madam Pomfrey had learned that Draco was the one who had found Persephone, she had called him a "hero" and hugged him. He had never gotten much more than a business like patching and a quick dismissal from the woman before. The unexpected and undeserved thanks made him feel uneasy, and the hug was more than he could take.

He had tried retreating to the library, but the next day, Persephone was there too. She was cramming for her O.W.L.S., which Dumbledore was having her take before he placed her. Draco tried to help her at first but soon felt that he was being more of a hindrance. Thus he fell to wandering the halls. The caretaker Argus Filch would sneer and growl at him as he passed. Filch's cat Mrs. Norris would track him for several corridors before losing interest, but otherwise he met no one. The Hogwarts teachers did not return until the day before classes were to start. Madam Pomfrey was preparing her ward for the coming term, and Dumbledore stayed out of sight. The grounds keeper Hagrid may have been at his hut, but Draco did not venture onto the grounds.

His birthday came and went for the first time without a sound. No party, no friends, no family, no gifts. He knew Persephone would make a fuss over him if he mentioned it, but he did not want to distract her from O.W.L.S. She took two of them the evening of his birthday, while he sat by the fire in the Slytherin common room. The rest she took the next day, when the Hogwarts express would arrive. Draco haunted the windows. He knew the train would not arrive until after nightfall, but he still checked for it at least once every half hour. He knew that the teachers were arriving through out the day, but he managed to avoid them. He watched the Divination teacher, Professor Trelawny, shimmer past in the hall, her heaps of cheap beads and bangles clanked and jingled as she passed, but she paid him no attention. She was remarkably short sighted for a woman who claimed to be a seer.

At long last, night fell, and Draco heard the distant sounds of the train coming to a halt. He saw the lanterns bob across the lake with the first years on their traditional boat ride. With greater interest he watched the flying black carriages bringing the older students. They were drawn by nightmarishly gaunt, horse-like creatures, black and dragonish. He could see the thestrals now, and that sent a fresh chill through him. When the carriages landed, Draco slipped away from the window and hurried down the stairs to the front entry hall. He paused at the side of the main staircase. The students were spilling into the castle in their black school robes. He felt a wave of unease creep upon him, but he pushed it away and jogged down the stairs, salmoning his way against the current of students. He was half aware of the curious looks of the other students, but he ignored them, looking for two faces in particular.

"There he is," he heard a voice from his left. He glanced that way and saw Ron Weasley pointing at him with a look of disgust. Potter and Granger were flanking him and looking slightly disappointed.

"Hi," Draco said absently and went back to scanning the crowd. He finally spotted Crabbe and Goyle, who were standing near the door with a small cluster of seventh year Slytherins. He pushed his way towards them.

"There you are!" Goyle roared as he approached. His constant companions Vincent Crabbe and Gregory Goyle were both large, thick boys. Draco would never call them bright, but they had a fierce loyalty that touched him at times. The look of relief on their faces matched his own internal expression, and he had to restrain himself from hugging them.

"Oh, Draco, we were so worried when you weren't on the train," Pansy Parkinson's fluty voice came from beside them.

"Yeah, where were you?" Crabbe growled.

Draco shrugged. He suddenly felt fully at ease. "Didn't feel like taking the train this year."

The Slytherins gave him curious looks, but he remained coy and they fell to laughing. "You are too much," Pansy cooed. The seventh year Slytherins climbed the stairs to the Great Hall in a small cloud formation with Draco at the center. They took their seats at the entrance end of the hall, leaving the far end open for the first years. His friends tried to get him to divulge details about his summer and absence from the train. Draco waved them off, enjoying the thrill of being mysterious. The staff was settling into their own seats at the high table. Draco watched them, the warm feeling he had found slowly fading.

The first years filed in behind Professor McGonagall, who swooped down the center isle and stood with her list beside the hat and stool for the Sorting Ceremony. The first years approached nervously as everyone turned to stare in their direction. Everyone except Draco.

Draco kept staring at the staff table. He felt something sticking in his throat. Where was Professor Snape?

Surely, he could not have taken off now. Not after Draco had risked so much to bring Persephone here. Professor Snape was one of the most competent teachers at Hogwarts. If anyone could spot one of Voldemort's attacks, if anyone could defend the students from them, it was him. When Draco had come to Hogwarts for protection he had assumed Snape would be here, assumed his old friendship with Persephone would lead him to protect her and allow Draco to worry about his own skin.

Draco forgot to clap as the new first years were sorted. He was watching the door to the antechamber behind the staff table, hoping to see Snape make a late entrance.

"There's my little brother," Millicent Bulstrode announced a little too loudly. She let out a large whoop as the sorting hat put him in Slytherin. It was echoed by Goyle who seemed to be taking cues on everything from Milliscent. "Good show, Toady!"

The sorting ended, but Draco did not show the least bit of interest in the food that followed.

"Aren't you hungry, Draco?" Pansy Parkinson asked him, looking a little concerned.

"Where is he?" Draco said in response.

"Who? Professor Snape?"

"Maybe he got married, and he's off on his honeymoon," said Daphne Greengrass, her voice taking on a whispy air to match her figure. She had long, full wavy hair that was blonde or brown. Draco had never quite figured out the color and suspected that she adjusted it magically every few days. It looked rather blonde that evening. She had a tendency to sway slightly when she spoke and reminded him of a willow tree.

"Don't be silly, Greengrass," said Pansy, her small nose scrunched up in a look of disdain.

"Maybe he's joined the Death Eaters full time," Crabbe said in a low voice intended only for the smattering of Death Eater children in the seats around him.

"Shut up," Draco snapped at him. He felt a horrible panic that he had misjudged his teacher.

Pansy Parkinson was glaring at Crabbe too. Crabbe looked down admonished.

Daphne Greengrass did not seem to have heard them. "I bet Professor Snape is in Spain. Everything romantic happens in Spain."

"Professor Snape is where?" a fifth year further down the table asked. This spark set off a whirl of speculation about Professor Snape's absence and who would replace him as head of Slytherin House if he were gone. It lasted until the plates were taken away, and Dumbledore began his start of term announcements.

Dumbledore began with the usual start of term warnings about the forbidden forest, and some other nonsense that ran together in Draco's ears. Then he indicated Snape's empty chair. "I'm sure some of you have been wondering about our potions master. Not to worry, Professor Snape is just a little late returning from his summer vacation. He assures me that he will be here tomorrow to start his classes on time."

There were a few groans at the mention of classes, but Draco barely heard them for the waves of relief sweeping over him.

"And finally, Slytherins, after you escort the first years to the dormitories, I need you to send a prefect to my office. They'll be picking up a transfer student who is joining your house this year."

That would be Persephone. "I'll go," Draco said. A female voice had overlapped his, and he realized that Pansy had volunteered as well.

She smiled at Draco and cocked her head to the side making her short hair bounce. "We can go together."

Draco did not argue with her. He felt very hungry and wished he had eaten something at the feast. Draco looked over at the Gryffindor table and found Harry who was getting up from his seat. "You're in for a shock this year, Potter," he said quietly.

One of the Ravenclaws standing nearby whirled around and stared at Draco. Draco looked away, wondering if they had heard him. He realized everyone at his table was standing as well and got to his feet. With the other prefects, he collected the first years and began herding them towards the dormitories. He left them in the Slytherin common room, and he and Pansy walked to Dumbledore's office.

"We've never gotten a transfer student," Pansy jabbered. "How do you think they merited Slytherin? Surely they're pureblood, but still, they would have had to been sorted wouldn't they?"

"Maybe she didn't want to have to go through the ceremony with all the little first years," Draco said. "That might be embarrassing for an older student."

"You think it's a girl," Pansy said, looking at Draco in surprise. "Might be nice to have another girl since Addy Flint's father pulled her out."

"Addy's gone?" Draco said. It was his turn to be surprised.

"Well, she's such a little daddy's girl," Pansy said. "He probably didn't think it was safe to leave her at Hogwarts. What with Dumbledore running things again, and You Know Who back, and the top two people on his list being here."

_She doesn't mean you_, Draco told himself. _She doesn't mean you. _ _She means Potter and Dumbledore_.

"Draco!" Persephone called out happily from Dumbledore's entryway. She skipped over to him and kissed him on the cheek. Pansy Parkinson's jaw dropped, but Persephone did not seem to notice. "I think I got all 'O's…well, except maybe in Magical Creatures, but I passed that. Dumbledore said he'd go ahead and put me with the sixth years!"

Draco looked at Pansy whose mouth was still wide open. "Persephone, this is Pansy Parkinson. Pansy, this is…"

"Persephone P.," Persephone supplied and held out a hand to Pansy. Pansy closed her mouth and gave Persephone's hand a quick shake. Pansy's eyes were still very wide.

"Persephone's a friend of the family," Draco explained.

"Oh," Pansy said looking slightly relieved. "Well, the dorm's this way." She took Persephone by the elbow and led her away from Dumbledore's office. Draco was hoping he would get to see Dumbledore. He wanted to ask about Professor Snape. Draco lagged behind the girls as they walked to the dormitories.

"Pea's an unusual last name," Pansy said. "I don't think I know your family."

"Well, that's because we're from very far away," Persephone said. Draco repressed a groan. She was a very bad liar.

"From America!" Persephone continued brightly, not sounding the least bit American. Pansy looked at her uncertainly. "I mean Canada, which is in the Americas. Same continent and all."

Draco resisted the urge to fill in Persephone's answers for her. Pansy did not look like she was buying it. "I can't believe-" Pansy began, and Draco knew it was over. "I can't believe that's your real hair color!"

Oh, Pansy! Wonderful, shallow Pansy!

"Oh yes," Persephone laughed. "It is. My eyes too. It's that old Silver Child charm. My mother over did it."

The girls continued discussing hair color until they got to the Slytherin common room. One of the first years ran up to Pansy to ask her something, and Draco pulled Persephone aside. "P?"

"People used to call me Ms. P. sometimes when I was here before. Dumbledore thought it might be easier for me and teachers to remember."

"The teachers?"

"Oh, yes, McGonagall and Flitwick and Professor Sprout were all here when I was last. Oh and I bet Professor Binns is still here as well, I mean he's a ghost, so it's a little late for a career change. I'm kind of hard not to recognize." She touched her silver hair. "Dumbledore thinks I should talk to Harry before I let out who I am, and even then it might be better not to say anything."

"Anything about what?" Pansy asked, walking back to them.

Persephone blushed.

"Why don't you take Persephone up to her dorm and introduce her to the other sixth year girls?" Draco suggested.

Pansy looked a little sore to have been left out of the secret, but she smiled anyway. "Come on, Pea."

Draco went up to his own dorm and changed into his nightclothes. Crabbe, Goyle, and Nott, three of the other boys sharing his room, assaulted him with more questions about his absence from the train and lost summer. The last seventh year, Blaise Zabini, even looked up from his book with mild interest. It was the first year Draco had not visited Crabbe or Goyle during his summer months or invited them to his manor. He had been disinclined to write, and his few letters to them had been necessarily vague.

They all claimed to have received owls from Draco's mother, even Zabini, and wanted to know which friend he had gone to see during his weeklong absence. Draco was slightly tempted to tell them about his adventures but knew that would put Persephone and himself in danger. So, he remained mysterious, which only seemed to intensify their awe and curiosity. Unable to deter them in any other way, he pulled out his new _Timebender_ as a diversionary tactic.

Crabbe and Goyle were the Slytherin team beaters and could fully appreciate a top quality broom. Even Nott, who could barely keep himself up right on a broomstick, adored Quidditch and was completely awestruck. The _Timebender_ was far too expensive for Crabbe and Goyle, and Nott whose family was arguably as wealthy as the Malfoys would have had great difficulty talking his father into purchasing one. The glory of the broom was only lost upon Zabini, who slipped out of the room to seek a quieter place to read.

After an hour or so of admiring the broom and engaging in the Quidditch discussion it inspired, Nott returned to the common room to try to catch one of the female students before they were out of reach in the girls dormitory. When he left, the tone of Crabbe and Goyle's conversation changed. They asked Draco for news of their fathers. This surprised Draco. He knew that Crabbe and Goyle were also the sons of Death Eaters, but he had assumed that they stayed at least as well informed as he did. He knew their fathers were currently dwelling under his manor, but if they had not given this information to their sons, Draco did not feel it was his place to do so. He gave them the assurance that he had seen them and to his knowledge they were in good health. This provided some relief to the other boys, but hardly sated their curiosity.

Draco felt guilty not telling them more and strangely privileged to have been included by the fold. It was a privilege he wished had not been extended. It was a knowledge he would happily trade for ignorance. All the same, it showed a level of trust had been placed on him, which made him sick that he had betrayed. He felt worse that he was unable to trust his two best friends with what he knew. They deserved to have their questions answered, but he had to think of the greater good…or bad…or something…or did he?

He was too tired, too drained, to contemplate the ethics of the situation. He went to bed, hiding himself under the covers, and the other boys were good enough to choke back their protests.

o

* * *

o

In the morning, it all seemed like a distant dream. He awoke in his familiar bed in his familiar dorm. The sounds of the other boys getting ready, the bustling of students in the hall, drained the castle of the alien feeling it had acquired without them. He felt a vague desire then a growing need to find Persephone and confirm the dream or wake from it. His throat tightened then relaxed when he did not find her in the common room. He waited with an eye on the girls dormitory entrance for several minutes before following the crowd to breakfast. He spotted her sitting amidst the sixth year girls at the Slytherin table. For a brief instant, he wondered if the other girls had noticed that this silver child had replaced Addy Flint or if only he could see her. But he had never seen any of them watch Addy with such hungry curiosity.

Persephone was chatting eagerly with them. Draco drew closer, hoping to do some damage control for whatever stories she was telling them. He discovered as he came within earshot that the conversation was centered around Persephone's hair and not her history. He heard her speak the nursery song he had heard his father sing.

"Silver child with hair quite wild…" she giggled with embarrassment. "You were only supposed to sing the charm once a week or so to give the daughter you were expecting all the desirable qualities, but Mama really liked it. So she sang it over and over, and come to find out if you sing it too often it will actually turn your baby silver. I'm told I got several articles in _Witch Weekly_, even one in the _Prophet_, but no one else wanted their little girls looking like old ladies, so the charm rather fell out of fashion."

"You don't look like an old lady," a couple of the girls assured her.

"Well, that's the least of it," Persephone said. "If it was just the hair, I wouldn't mind so much. But a lot of magic items won't work right for me unless they're made of silver." She pulled out her shiny silver wand. "I had to have it special made." The girls made appreciative exclamations over the unusual wand, passing it around the table.

Draco saw that some other students had drifted over to look at the wand and Persephone. "What's in it?" Pansy Parkinson asked.

"Well, since it was a special order," Persephone dropped her voice to a conspiratorial whisper. "It has a unicorn hair wrapped around a Phoenix feather and a Dragon string." There was a collective gasp.

"All three?" murmured a dark haired sixth year, named Chesann, turning the wand over in her hand. "It must be absurdly powerful."

Persephone looked doubtful. "It's temperamental. I'm not sure they always get along so well together. But it has been behaving a little better more recently."

Pansy snatched the wand out of Chesann's hands and looked it over doubtfully. "Temperamental? I'm rather surprised it works at all. Proper wands are made of wood."

"I know," Persephone said. "Please be careful with it. It's gotten used to me, but it gave Henrietta Glumph a nasty burn when she tried to wave it."

"Burn?" Pansy squeaked and quickly laid the wand back on the table.

"I've got an aunt named Henrietta," someone said from down the table.

"Everyone should sit down and let Persephone eat," Draco interrupted sharply, not wanting to discover if Aunt Henrietta was Persephone's old school mate. "Classes start today. I won't tolerate you all losing Slytherin points by being late." He gave a glare to all the sixth year girls, which caused several of them to scatter. He turned to the girl on Persephone's left. "Are you done?" The girl nodded and scooted over to let Draco sit down. Pansy took one of the opposite seats created by the fresh vacuum.

"Do you have your class schedule yet?" Draco asked grumpily, while he snatched a plate and began piling breakfast things on it.

"Not yet," Persephone said. Pansy made a gesture to one of the fifth year prefects, and they came scurrying down the table with a pile of parchments. He fished their schedules out of the pile and scurried off to continue up the table. Persephone bounced eagerly in her seat as she looked hers over. "I've never been so excited to start classes."

"Suppose Hogwarts is a right sight better than that Canadian school," Pansy said as she looked over her own schedule.

"Oh yes," Persephone agreed. "Much bigger, older, more prestigious. Love the castle."

Draco wondered if they even had a wizarding school in Canada. He knew two other schools than Hogwarts by name, but there were wizards across the pond. He supposed they went to school somewhere. He opened his schedule and felt a fresh sense of relief. "Good, they let me into Defense Against the Dark Arts."

"You added another class?" said Pansy, looking concerned for his well-being. "But you were already taking so many and playing Quidditch. How will you manage?"

"It's okay. I dropped Divination."

Instead of looking relieved, Pansy's face fell. "But we had that class together. Who will I be partners with?"

"Oo, I hate Divination," Persephone said, studying her own schedule. "I'm so glad I get to give it up this year."

"It's really kind of a joke class," Draco said. "I just took it because marks were easy. All you have to do is make stuff up."

Pansy went a little paler and took on an offended tone. "I never make stuff up. I _see_ things."

"I'm sure you do," Draco teased her. "How many classes are you taking?" he asked Persephone.

"Six," she said.

"Six?" Pansy repeated. "Are you sure that's wise? These are Advanced Classes you know. Not everyone can handle that many."

"I think I can manage," Persephone said. "I suppose I could always drop one if it's too much."

"I think it's better to just focus your energy on what you really need for your career," Pansy said grandly. Her 'I's always had an extra grand air to them. "I for instance want to work with Unicorns, which means Herbology and Care of Magical Creatures. I take Potions of course because it's useful, and Divination to be well rounded. It's really all about your post graduation plans. Do you have any idea what you want to do?"

Draco could not help smirking. He knew very well that Pansy's post graduation plans involved marrying into money and never working a minute more than was necessary. Spending her days with Unicorns just sounded romantic enough to keep her attention in the mean time.

Persephone shook her head. "I have no clue. So many things sound interesting. I guess I just want to cover all my bases."

Pansy's color returned, and she took on a superior air. "Oh, well, I suppose if you're unfocused that is a good plan." Draco thought about playing with Pansy's head by reminding her that he was also taking six classes, but the thought of her floundering to explain why his six were different was enough to amuse him. He decided to spare her the distress. Besides it would be hard to shovel down his breakfast and tease her at the same time.

Persephone twisted about in her seat, looking over her shoulder at the rest of the Great Hall. "Looking for someone?" Draco asked.

"Well, I wanted to see Harry-" she began but cut off with a nervous glance at Pansy.

"Oh, yes, famous Harry Potter," Pansy twittered. "He's almost directly behind you. Looking your way at the moment."

Persephone turned her head around to look. She snapped it back fairly quickly and dropped her jaw. "He's the image of James," she breathed so quietly that Draco was sure Pansy could not hear her. He had to strain to make her out.

"When are you going to speak to him?" he asked in similarly low voice.

Persephone poked uncertainly at her eggs. "Lunch, after my Arithmancy class," she said at a more normal volume. "I think I can build up the nerve by then or maybe this afternoon after Transfiguration."

Pansy snorted. "There's nothing extraordinary about Potter. He's just odd." Pansy took note of Persephone's curious glance and continued in a dismissively bored tone. "I mean I've spoken to him dozens of times, but he's never impressed me."

Draco put down his fork and, more out of habit than necessity, wiped his mouth with his serviette. "I better walk you to your first class," he told Persephone. She responded with a confused expression. "It's easy to get lost at Hogwarts if you're unfamiliar with the castle."

"But I – _Ooh_, yes," Persephone caught on. "It is my first day, and I don't know where all the classes are."

Draco managed not to roll his eyes, but it took a lot of effort. He stuffed his schedule into his Charms text. He really needed to teach her how to lie. He stood, and Persephone mimicked him. Pansy looked up at him imploringly. She must have misinterpreted their conversation as an attempt to get away from her. "But, Divination?" she simpered.

"Buck up, love," he said, reaching across the table to tweak Pansy's chin. "We'll still have Potions."

Pansy pouted in a way Draco still thought was very cute but to which he was quite immune by this point. He took Persephone by the arm, and she stuffed a jam-laden crumpet into her mouth as he dragged her away. "You can't let on that you're too at home here," he hissed at her once they were out in the hall.

"I assure you," she managed around her mouthful of crumpet. "Acting confused will be very easy for me." She twisted her arm, and Draco realized that he had grasped it more tightly than he had meant. He released her and continued in a gentler tone.

"Let me see. Where are your books?"

She gave him a patient half smile. "I don't got any."

"How are you going to take your classes?" He felt exasperated. He could not keep providing for her, but if he did not, who would?

She smiled reassuringly. "Don't worry. I'll manage." Persephone skipped towards the stairs with a half-spin and called back to him in a louder voice. "Arithmancy's up this way, right?"

He blinked at her, wondering what the devil she was up to, when he realized. "No, it's down the hall, here," he called back with a nod. "Not far from my Charms. I'll take you." A few other students had glanced in the direction of their raised voices. It was not much of a show, but Draco appreciated the effort on Persephone's part. He led her down the hall of classes and deposited her at Professor Vector's door.

During his Charms class, he tried to be discreet but could not help watching Harry. He wondered how Potter would react to Persephone's announcement.

_Oh, hi, Harry, I'm your Aunt P._

_I've already got an Aunt P., but she's a Muggle._

_Oh, well, I'm your other Aunt P._

He wondered if Persephone could manage to keep him out of her narrative. He rather hoped she did not, even if it went counter to his wish for secrecy. He liked the idea of having Harry Potter indebted to him. At the very least, it should square them. An empty feeling developed in the pit of his stomach as he remembered what he wanted Potter to do. His humor waxed and waned as he laughed silently and bitterly at how he was turning into the sort of wizard he used to scoff at, the older kind of wizard that looked at Harry with a pleading hope in their eyes. _Save us, Harry Potter, save us._

He did not find Persephone at lunch, nor did he see Harry Potter or his gang. He ate quietly, only half paying attention to the conversation at the Slytherin table. Crabbe and Goyle were even more disturbed than Pansy by his dropping the Divination class. The three of them kept trying to persuade him to change his mind.

"But you already know loads about the Dark Arts," Pansy argued.

Draco figured he knew more about the Dark Arts than the average student, but the summer had convinced him he still did not know nearly enough about them. Particularly not enough about Defense. He had had a number of bad experiences in his Dark Arts classes during his first five years. In his fourth year, the nut pretending to be Mad-Eye Moody had turned him into a ferret, which had been both uncomfortable and embarrassing. He had gotten a great deal of backlash for his participation in Professor Umbridge's Inquisitorial Squad during his fifth year. He still managed to pull an 'O' in his O.W.L.s, and satisfied that he knew as much as he needed, he had dropped the class last year for less distressing courses.

"You'll be so far behind," Crabbe stressed. "You missed the whole sixth year. It will drop your class rank."

Draco knew there was a good chance Crabbe was right, but he was not taking Defense Against the Dark Arts for marks this time. He wanted the subject matter. If previous cycles stayed steady, they were due for a competent teacher this year.

"How'd you get in anyway?" Goyle scowled.

"I asked Dumbledore," Draco said. "He said he'd have to talk it over with the new teacher. I guess my other grades were good enough to impress him…or her."

"Or it," Daphne added. "You never know what will be teaching Dark Arts."

"They could have another werewolf," Pansy gasped.

"Oh, I rather liked Professor Lupin," Daphne said with a sly grin. "Course I didn't see him on his bad nights."

"You're still in it," Draco said to her. "Think I can catch up?"

Daphne grinned a little more widely. "I'm sure you could. I'll help you if you have trouble."

"Down, Greengrass," Pansy said in an offhand manner. Daphne giggled.

Draco took Daphne up on her offer and borrowed her textbook for the first class. He would have to send his Divination text back to the store for an exchange by owl. When he entered the classroom, he saw the wunderkinds in the front row and hesitated. He wondered if Persephone had spoken to Harry yet, and if he in turn had told the others. He took a seat up front near the window and looked at them from across the aisle.

"What are you doing here?" Weasley asked snappishly.

There was certainly nothing warm and fuzzy about Weasley's tone, the dark look he was getting from Potter, or the pointed way Granger was ignoring him. "I'm taking the class," he said in bored tone that was more reflexive than planned. Persephone must not have gotten to them during lunch, which made him wonder where she had gone.

"But you can't!" Weasley objected, sounding like a phantom echo of Crabbe. "You weren't in it last year."

Part of Draco was amused by his distress, but he was too anxious to smile. He settled for feigning disinterest. He shrugged and opened the textbook.

"Why weren't you on the train?" Potter demanded.

"Patience, Potter, you'll find out soon enough," he muttered as he scanned the chapter headings.

"I'm keeping my eye on you," Weasley spat.

Draco gave a short laugh in spite of himself. "Oh, well, that's enough to make me quake in my boots," he said sarcastically. Dark Lord Weasley. Now that would have been funny if it had not brought the memory of the other Dark Lord. He had the sudden inspiration to look up the _Magna_ _Secari _spell. He would not have noticed when Thomas Nott took the seat beside him, if Nott had not spoken.

"Daphne said you dropped Divination," Nott said as a way of greeting.

Draco made a small grunting noise in response. He was not having any luck finding the particular counter curse he wanted. There was the sound of doors flying open from the back of the classroom, and Draco turned with the rest of the students to the look. Dumbledore strode into the classroom. "It has been a long time, since I last taught a class at Hogwarts. But I assure you that I do have some experience and am well qualified."

Draco glowered. _Talk it over with the new teacher_ indeed. Dumbledore must have known that he would be teaching Dark Arts. He must have thought it was horribly funny to keep Draco in suspense for three days. Dumbledore rubbed this in by pointing out Draco, and ingenuously reminding the class that he was behind all of them. Not surprisingly, Dumbledore started the lesson by calling Harry Potter up to the front for a demonstration. Draco felt his old jealousies kindle for a moment, but they did not have their old strength. When he watched Harry's face he could tell Potter was not too keen on being up in front of the class and all too happy to sit back down again. As the lesson wore on, Draco had to admit that whatever Dumbledore's failings were as a headmaster, he was a competent teacher. He was learning things.

Dumbledore ended the lesson by saying, "I want you all to read the first two chapters in your books and return with three questions that we shall attempt to answer."

Draco pulled out a piece of parchment and wrote down his questions before he left the room.

_How do you defend against Magna Secari?_

_Can you work a counter curse when you can't speak?_

_Is there really no defense for the Avada Kedavra curse?_

o

* * *

o

He had hoped to talk to Persephone that evening, but both of them had become small celebrities. A crowd of students, not just Slytherins, surrounded Persephone. She would have been a curiosity, without her silver eyes and hair and wand, simply by being a transfer. Draco found he could not get close enough to shoo the crowd away from her. He was surrounded by his own older crowd of Slytherin, Ravenclaws, and Hufflepuffs. Only the Gryffindors were hanging back. They were all extremely curious to know about his absence from the Hogwarts train, particularly how he had managed it without getting a detention. Draco tried to stay mysterious, but this just caused the other students to press more closely to him.

"Oh, for goodness sakes," he said, finally snapping. "My mother had some business at Hogsmeade same day as the train. It just seemed silly for me to go all the way to London to catch the train so I walked it."

The crowd looked very disappointed. Some of them returned to their tables, some wandered off to join Persephone's crowd, and a few of them stayed, looking at him incredulously.

"But the letter-" Pansy began. Draco cut her off with a sharp glare.

"But my mother got a letter too," Padma Patil insisted. The others in the group nodded vigorously, and Draco had a sinking feeling that they had all received letters. His mother must have been in a real panic. Only Draco was not sure whether her panic was inspired by his disappearance or Persephone's. This made him feel betrayed all over and sneer surlily at the intent faces around him.

"What I do with my summers is my own business," he snapped. "Now, go away and let me eat." He could see that he had dropped in their opinion of him as the non-Slytherins returned to their tables. His Slytherin friends gathered around him at the table. They each shot him a number of furtive glances but avoided speaking to him directly. At first, he was glad for the peace but as the evening continued he wished he had been more tactful.

They continued to avoid saying anything to him as they returned to the Slytherin common room. He had hoped to catch Persephone there, but the sixth year girls swept her up to the dormitory before he had a chance. He waited a long time for her to come down, but she never did. He got tired of the other seventh years staring but not speaking to him and went up to bed.

When he got to his room, his eagle owl, Oberon, was waiting for him. Oberon's yellow eyes glared at him from under his steep, dark brow, and Draco felt a slight pang of guilt for having forgotten him in his flight. He sat down on the bed. "Sorry, old boy, I figured you could catch up," he apologized lamely. He reached out a hand to pat Oberon's head, but the owl hopped away indignantly and fluttered out the open window, leaving a thick letter on the bed sheet. Draco unsealed it, dreading the contents. A small slip of blank parchment fell out as he unfolded it. The letter was a very long tirade from his mother, every other sentence ending in exclamation points.

_Draco Darling,_

_How dare you take off like that! You had me worried sick! With your father missing and my nerves already worn so thin, how could you do this to me! Do I really deserve such treatment? Haven't I been a good mother? Have you ever been for wanting attention? Have I ever failed to provide for you?..._etc., etc.

_...I know it has not been easy for you with your father gone. I know it was dull for you to keep company with me all summer. I felt awful holding you from your normal amusements, but that is no excuse for you to run off like that! Family is more important than ever in these troubled times, and..._etc., etc.

_...I have sent your trunk along with a few things you have forgotten. I think I can find it in my heart to forgive you, but I don't know if Oberon ever shall. Owls are sensitive creatures in their own way. I see you remembered your Timebender anyway. Flew it off didn't you? At least you weren't seen..._etc., etc.

_Your devoted mother,_

_Narcissa Malfoy_

Draco felt a race of conflicting emotions. He was sure the letter was more or less honest, but he knew from the signature that this letter was meant for show. When his mother signed her full name it was to signal that he could safely pass the letter to other Slytherins. He felt some relief that she had not mentioned Persephone's empty portrait. He felt angry and indignant that she dared be angry with him after what they had put him through this summer. He thought having a lot of deranged, murderous dark wizards in the basement was a very good reason to run away from home. Mostly, however, he felt very sad. He was not ungrateful. He appreciated better than most what his parents had provided for him, and he felt absolutely sick that he had not become all they hoped.

His eyes fell on the small blank parchment. His trepidation returned as he gingerly picked it up off the bed sheets. With his touch, words materialized in his father's handwriting.

_V. is not pleased with your disappearing act. Watch yourself._

_~L.M._

Draco felt himself blanch. Terror crept over him once again. He had been right. Voldemort had not been fooled by the little note he had left on his desk. He pulled the curtains closed around his bed, despite the fact that the room was still quite warm. He changed into his nightclothes and lay back on his bed. Sleep never came to him. The folded letter with the little parchment tucked inside lay on his chest like a thousand pound weight. He registered the sounds of his roommates making ready for bed. He listened to their snores when his thoughts quieted enough for him to hear them. At some point he realized the noises beyond his curtains had taken on a different tone and that there was light peaking through his curtains. His body protested, but he forced himself to get up. He looked and felt ill.

"Are you all right?" Crabbe asked delicately.

"I'm fine," said Draco. He did not feel up to eating breakfast, but he went to the Great Hall anyway hoping to find Persephone. She was sitting at the Slytherin table and the other students were giving her a wide berth. Draco held back as well, understanding why. The Hogwarts ghosts were surrounding Persephone this morning. She was chatting pleasantly with the lot of them. The Grey Lady, the Ravenclaw ghost, sat to her left side, the Fat Friar was on her right. The Bloody Baron and Nearly Headless Nick sat and hovered across from her. The most remarkable part of all this was that the Bloody Baron was speaking back with an almost happy expression. Since the Baron rarely spoke and never smiled, this was even more unnerving than his normal appearances.

Draco doubted he could shoo the ghosts off very easily, and since walking through one was like having your bones doused in ice water, he decided to try Persephone later. At his present state, he worried that running through a ghost might actually make him sick. He turned to retreat from the Great Hall, but Crabbe and Goyle blocked his escape. Pansy, Daphne, and Millicent beckoned to the three of them, and Draco found himself unable to fight their collective will.

"We've got three spots to fill this year," Crabbe continued a discussion he had started with Goyle in the hall.

"Got your eye on anyone?" Goyle asked, trying to pull Draco into the conversation. Draco remembered having a few people in mind, but not in the mood to discuss Quidditch, he shook his head.

"Where's Captain Weatherby anyway?" asked Crabbe. Jonathan Weatherby was a Sixth Year and the Slytherin Quidditch Captain. He had done a fair job leading the team last year, which was no small feat considering he had been the youngest member.

"Recruiting I think," Pansy said dismissively. She gestured down the table to Weatherby who was chatting up a group of fourth and fifth years.

"I'll be right back," Crabbe said and made his way to Weatherby. Goyle took the empty seat next to Millicent. A first year was sitting nervously on Millicent's right, wedged oddly between her and a group of sixth years.

"Draco, have you met my brother?" Millicent asked, halting Draco's descent into the chair beside Goyle. "Hey, Toady, this is Draco Malfoy."

"Charles," the boy corrected mildly and stretched his small hand out to Draco. Draco shook it. Millicent was a tall, thickset girl with lank black hair that curled on the ends, and this delicate, brown haired boy did not look a thing like her, except in the nose. "I got to see you play Quidditch two years ago. You were excellent," Charles added. Draco smiled politely at him.

"Hey, Toady, why don't you try out for the team?" Goyle asked. Charles responded to Goyle's recommendation with a long-suffering look, and Draco took the opportunity to sit down. "I taught Toady how to fly this summer," Goyle told Draco with a proud smile.

Down the table Weatherby let out a loud whoop. Draco glanced his way to see Weatherby hold up both thumbs and mouth _Timebender_ approvingly. Draco gave him a nod and a slightly warmer version of the bland smile he had given Charles Bulstrode. Someone passed Draco a plate and fork. He played with the fork absently but still could not find an appetite. _What if I just walked off the team_, he wondered. _That would certainly throw them all._

Pansy had assembled her entire gang of Seventh Year Slytherin girls, including Alice Withers and Indigo Stump. Alice had a square face and blonde hair, nearly as pale as Draco's. She was his third or fourth cousin on his father's side. Indigo was an olive skinned girl of pureblooded but racially mixed decent who had long black hair, circular glasses, and a talent for fading into the background. Only this year her glasses were gone, and her hair was cut to just below her chin and dyed an unnatural shade of red. Her body language still put her in the background. Draco could not say whether he liked the changes. The girls were socially on tier with Millicent, and he generally considered them to be extensions of Pansy.

"Nice hair," he told Indigo, who blushed and looked down at her plate.

Alice was watching Persephone with a scowl. "That girl isn't going to have breakfast with the ghosts everyday is she?" she attempted to echo the disdained tone of which Pansy was master. Draco shrugged.

"Your new girlfriend's friendly with the Baron, huh?" Daphne said nonchalantly. Draco scowled at her. She was baiting him. He did not want to bite, but he did not like her confusing the others about Persephone.

"She's not his girlfriend," Pansy told Daphne with mild exasperation. "And her name's Persephone, and I think she's charming." She smiled at primly at Draco, who understood what she was doing.

Sure enough, Alice snapped her head back around. "Oh, well, I don't mind her at all, it's the ghosts you know. They just make things a bit chilly…so uh, you think we'll have a dance this year?"

"I still don't understand why they cancelled last years," said Pansy.

"Might have had something to do with the war going on," said Nott taking the seat opposite Alice, understanding by unspoken contract that the seat to Draco's left was reserved for Crabbe.

"I think it would be an absolutely tragedy to not have one our last year," Daphne said. "War or not."

"Did you get your dress?" Alice asked. Draco twirled the fork in his fingers like he sometimes did his wand, glad the conversation was wandering away from him. Crabbe returned, took his seat, and began piling enough food on his plate to more than make up for what Draco was not eating.

"I've got the one I had picked out for last year," Pansy said. "But I don't know if I like it as much as I did. I think I'll looked for another one over Christmas."

"Mine's green," Daphne said. "Oh, you should see the material. It's got this wonderful crinkle texture."

"Mine's blue," Indigo added softly.

"You can't be on about the dance already," Crabbe said, looking rather appalled. "We ought to make a rule about not bringing this stuff up before the end of Quidditch season. By the way, we're holding try-outs next Thursday."

"Just as long as they leave us out of it," Nott said.

A wicked glint came to Daphne's eyes. "Oh, nonsense, Theodore," she said slyly. "You boys are an essential part after all."

"Lowering yourself to schoolboys now, Daphne?" quipped Nott.

Daphne laughed and tossed her long, crinkled hair, which was somewhat browner this morning. "Oh no, I just like getting dressed up, but I want to make sure none of you children has to go alone."

"How generous of you," Pansy said and took a dainty bite of her breakfast.

"Now let's see," Daphne said with a dictating air. "Gregory, you'll take Millicent of course, and the rest you, just take the girl sitting across from you. There, see, now it's all settled, and you don't have to fret about it." Pansy eyed Draco and repressed a giggle. Crabbe and Indigo both looked horrified. Alice gave Nott and Pansy alternating glances as though asking if she was expected to bide by this ruling.

"Back off, Daphne," Nott said defensively. "I've already got a date." Draco was startled by this announcement and turned his head to look at Nott with the rest of group. Nott was unflustered and continued eating his breakfast. Persephone had finished speaking to the ghosts and stood. Draco considered trying to follow her, but she walked in his direction.

"Well, at least one of you is on top of things," Pansy said. "It's really never too early to plan ahead."

Persephone reached Draco. She looked as though as wanted to say something, and he was eager to hear from her. "Do you mind?" he asked Crabbe, and with surprising gentility, or maybe simply to distance themselves further from Daphne, both Crabbe and Nott scooted over one seat to allow Persephone to sit down by Draco.

"What about you, Draco?" Daphne pressed. "Already got a date?"

Draco was not sure whether Daphne's inability to mind her own business or Pansy's obvious, hopeful glances were annoying him more. ""I thought I'd asked Granger," he said casually as though he had actually given the matter serious thought before. The other Slytherins, all familiar with his dry style of humor, laughed. Draco smiled at the success of his joke and the somewhat indignant look on Pansy's face. He caught sight of the real Granger walking into the Great Hall and decided to push the joke a little further. He leaned back and called out to her. "Hey, Granger! How about it? You and me at the dance this year." The Slytherins waited with baited breath to see how Granger would react.

She paused for the short time between her name and the end of his sentence. "Shove off, Malfoy!" she shot back with clear irritation.

Draco shrugged and turned back to the table with a sigh of mock-resignation. "C'est la vie." Everyone exploded with laughter, even Pansy convulsed with mirth.

"Don't be rude, Draco," Persephone said reprovingly. Her lack of so much as a grin surprised him. She usually laughed so easily.

"She knows I wasn't serious," Draco explained, not sure why there was an apologetic tone in his voice.

Persephone did not yield. "I know that. If I thought she took you seriously, I would call it cruel rather than rude." Some of the people around him snickered again at Persephone's presumptiveness. Draco could not believe she was rebuking him in front of everyone.

"Have you had your chat with Harry yet?" he snapped at her, knowing everyone would mistake this for Potter-fancy, something considered particularly loathsome in Slytherin House, on Persephone's part.

"Not yet," she said, completely unabashed. Somehow unaware of all the raised eyebrows and rolling eyes around her, she sighed impatiently, and then her expression changed subtly. "Look, I'll talk to you later." She stood and walked off. Draco felt a flash of anger at her for treating him like an inconsiderate toddler in front of the others. How dare she condescend to him after all he had done for her. He slapped his fork down irritably, and then felt twice as irritable that she had managed to make him show his irritation.

"Mudblood lover," Pansy said in a singsong voice, and Draco felt vicious satisfaction that she was taking some revenge on Persephone for him.

Alice looked confused by Pansy's sudden change of opinion. "Well, maybe she doesn't know," she ventured.

"She is new," Indigo agreed. Her eyes were wide, and Draco decided she looked less intelligent without her glasses. Crabbe and Nott shifted back to their original seats.

"Did you see Granger's face?" Crabbe said gleefully, and there was a fresh set of laughter in response. Draco no longer enjoyed it though. He suddenly remembered half of them were Death Eaters' children. He shoved his empty plate away and stood.

"I've got some things to do before the next class," he announced unnecessarily. Pansy gave him an odd, questioning look, but he ignored it and stalked off.

He found Oberon in the owlery and sent him off to exchange his Divination text for the one he needed in Dark Arts. His anger cooled as the morning passed, and he found himself wishing he had shown Persephone the letter, which was still weighing like an albatross inside his robes. She was the only one who could appreciate it. By lunch, his trunk had arrived, and he took it up to his room himself, passing up the crowds in the Great Hall. He saw Persephone in the entryway, still surrounded by a small cloud of students, but only long enough ask her, "Did you-?"

To which she replied, "Not yet." Before she was swept away.

This gave him no comfort. He went through his classes in a fog. He had a dim idea that Harry Potter, still blatantly unaware that the last of his family was again wandering the halls at Hogwarts, was in his Transfiguration class. He could see the back of his head, hair sticking up in the back. Did he never use a comb?

After classes, Draco went upstairs to see what his mother had sent along with his trunk. There was some extra clothing, a few Quidditch supplies he had forgotten, and various school supplies like extra ink and quills. In the trunk's false bottom he found Horribly Harmful Draughts From Humbly Harmless Herbs. He stared at the book, anger breaking through his fog. It seemed neither Lord Voldemort or his father had given up on using him. That was exactly what they were trying to do. Use him to get to Potter. He threw the book angrily back into his trunk. His head was pounding, and the fog was threatening to return.

He left the dormitory and took the stairs to the common room. Pansy was waiting for him at the bottom of the stairs. "You have to eat something, Draco," she said her voice thick with concern. Eat? He remembered he had missed lunch as well as breakfast. That would explain the fog.

He put his arm around Pansy's shoulders. "Good idea," he said. "Let's eat." He walked with her down to the Great Hall. Persephone waved at him from her cloud of sixth years. He was not in the mood to wave so he just gave her a nod in return. The meal and the anger cleared his head.

He slept soundly that night. He awoke a little late Wednesday morning and hurried down to breakfast. The ghosts were not fencing Persephone in this morning. She was sitting next to Pansy and chatting with Crabbe and Goyle. There was an empty seat directly across from her, which he was sure had been left open for him. The table was less crowded. The second tier girls were absent. Daphne was still there, but he knew she was far more tolerable without an audience. He felt silly to have gotten annoyed with any of them. His bad mood had simply come from lack of sleep. Persephone was getting along with his friends instead of alienating them. It was a far more comfortable image. He headed for the empty seat but heard a roar of excited chatter from the Gryffindor table. They were passing a paper around with great interest, but Draco had his own papers to show.

Seamus Finnigan shouted at him. "Hey, Malfoy, is it true? Were you at the hotel?"

Draco stopped. "What?" he said with only a small trace of the shock he felt. He passed up the Slytherin table that he so desperately wanted to join and crossed the hall to the Gryffindors. "What are you talking about?"

"You finally got your name in the paper," Potter said with a smug grin and pushed a copy of _The Quibbler_ toward him.

_The Quibbler_ was a nonsensical tabloid, but Draco was curious enough from Seamus's hotel comment to snatch it up. He read, his worst fears confirmed. Someone, some wizard, must have seen him and Persephone at the Newbury hotel. His first instinct was to blame the shopkeeper, but he would have known that Persephone was not a Muggle. Not that it mattered. His mother would see this. She never bought _The Quibbler_, but someone in her network of witches would put her onto it. She would connect the girl to Persephone even if no one else did. The article hit far too close to home, far closer than the snickering Gryffindors realized.

"Did you really take a girl to a hotel?" Weasley asked incredulously.

"Oh, sure," Draco said retreating to his dull sarcasm. If he told the truth the right way, no one would believe it. "I kept her in my bedroom for a month or so. Then I got worried my parents might find her, so I took her to a hotel." But what if his father believed it? What if Voldemort did? Surely they knew him better. It was impossible for him to have a girl in every town. He had not gotten out of the house this summer.

"You're not serious?" a female voice interrupted his thoughts. He looked up from the article. It was Granger who had spoke. She looked like she was starting to believe it, and Draco could not stand having _her_ think he was a Muggle-loving playboy, particularly not after that stupid joke he had made yesterday. He glanced at the other Gryffindors. He had thought they would pick up on the sarcasm in his tone, but they were all looking at him as though he had really kidnapped some poor Muggle and kept her locked in his room for months.

"Don't be a bunch of gits," he snapped at them angrily. "I have never been in a hotel with a Muggle girl!"

"That's not what the paper says." Looney Luna Lovegood was smirking at him in a superior manner.

His father had always kept him well apprised of what everyone else's fathers did, and he had gotten an earful about the Lovegoods after his father had gotten out of Azkaban. "You're father prints this rubbish, right?" he shot at her. Luna had been one of the students who had put him into the prison. Draco curled the paper in his hand. He wanted to strike the smug look off her face.

"It's not rubbish," Lovegood retorted. "Just because you don't like the truth getting out."

"Truth?" Draco fumed. "Fine bit of journalism, they made it all up. Unnamed 'Hogwarts student'. Unnamed 'Sources'. 'Unavailable for comment'-like they even tried to contact me- What sort of name is 'Adalade Pickwick'? Is that even a real person?" Several of the Gryffindors, Harry included, were having trouble holding back their snickers. Granger wore a half smirk, but eyed the paper doubtfully. Draco pointed the curled paper at Luna, successfully curbing the urge to strike her with it. "Make your dad print a retraction, _or_-"

"_Or_ what?" Luna sniffed, looking bored. "Your dad will come out of hiding to set him straight?"

_My dad—_the words formed in his head, but he did not know where to go with them. He felt his anger rising. Anger at the sniggering Gryffindors. Anger at his father. Anger at the nosey reporter who wrote the article. Anger at this Lovegood girl who had the nerve to look bored by all his trouble. His hand tightened around the paper. He wanted to strike her, break her, but—he caught the glint of something just past Luna and threw all his rage into it.

The goblet exploded. The shattering noise and all the little diamonds it left in its wake snapped him out of his intense anger. He felt a split second of relief until he caught sight of Granger's hand. A large piece of glass had lodged into it. Blood was spreading out from the long thin cut. He had a flash of Evra Tomes. A flash of Hermione covered in nasty cuts. He pushed the idea away, fearful he could make it come to pass. He had put his rage into the goblet to avoid hurting someone, not to… "I didn't mean to," he told her.

She stood slowly, not responding to him. The blood was making him feel sick, and he wanted it to go away. He wanted her to not be cut. "I'm sorry," he tried again, reaching out take her hand as though touch could make it better. That's what his mother had always done when he got a cut, took it in her hands checked it. Her touch always made it seem a little better.

"Don't touch me!" Hermione pulled her hand away, glaring at him as if he were something very foul. He did not feel foul though. He felt very light and pure as if his touch was the only thing that could heal her. His hand hung in the air for a moment, waiting for her to come back to it. The feeling of purity wilted under her glare, however, and he did begin to feel foul.

"I'm going to see Madam Pomfrey," Hermione said sensibly. She left. Weasley followed her like a surly guard dog. Draco wanted to follow too. He wanted very much to convince her that it had been an accident, unintentional chaos, but Potter was glaring steadily at him. Draco doubted he would let him past. When Granger was out of sight, the rest of the situation flooded back upon him. He had not done accidental magic, he had not lost control like that, since he was nine. Never at Hogwarts, never in front of people who already has such a low opinion of him. He felt the heat of embarrassment rise in his cheeks. He looked back at Lovegood, who continued to sit as before, smirking as though oblivious to the exploding goblet and Granger's bleeding hand. It made him loathe her more, but he just wanted to escape now. "Retract it," he spat at Lovegood, throwing the paper into her lap.

He walked away from the Gryffindor table as quickly as he could, feeling cold and stiff. He had a great desire to keep walking, out of the Great Hall, and back to his dorm room. He found himself at the Slytherin table, however, because his legs had carried him there, and he had a vague feeling this is where he was supposed to go.

"Draco, come sit," Persephone called to him, and he yielded to her command. He sat down in the empty seat. Hot anger and embarrassment competing with the cold sick feeling building in his stomach. Persephone took note of his twitching hand. "Are you feeling alright? Pansy said, you haven't been eating normally. Are you coming down with something? Do you think you need to see Madam Pomfrey?"

"No," Draco said, shaking his head. Her voice was soothing to him, and the glass and the Gryffindors seemed a little farther away. "Just a little stomach bug yesterday. I'm fine now."

Pansy looked relieved, and she was not the only one. "Good thing," Crabbe said. "You had me worried, mate." Goyle nodded in agreement.

Draco felt like he had settled into a nice warm pocket. The things that disturbed him fell into order again. He remembered the letter he had tucked into his robes, and pulled it out. He unfolded it and handed it across the table to Persephone. He kept a finger on the small parchment so that she could read the message as well. She read it quickly. Her face showed that she understood the seriousness of the message and that it was why Draco had not felt like eating.

"Can I see?" Pansy said, glancing at the letter.

"Sure," Draco said taking his hand off the parchment. Persephone was slicker than he would have guessed. She handed the letter over to Pansy and slipped the, now blank, parchment back to Draco discreetly.

Pansy looked over the letter and whistled.

"I think she over reacted a bit," Draco said.

Pansy raised a well-sculpted eyebrow. "I think you're lucky you didn't get a howler," her tone implied that he deserved one.

"You still might," Daphne said from beside her. She held up a copy of _The Quibbler_. "Have you seen this?"

"Lot of nonsense," Pansy said with a derisive snort. Draco smiled. He felt very glad that someone thought it was nonsense.

"Yeah, the Gryffindors were just showing me," Draco said more lightly than he thought he could have managed. "It seems I'm quite the lady's man. Got a girl in every town." Persephone smirked, Pansy rolled her eyes, and Daphne laughed loudly. "Where'd you get that anyway?"

"Mum sent it along," Daphne said. "She thinks it's funny."

Draco breathed a hissing intake of air. "Don't think my mum will find it funny."

"It's a cheap shot," Pansy said, her slender hand closing into a fist and banging the table lightly. Crabbe and Goyle echoed with similar indignation. They seemed particularly angry over the references to Draco's father. Their support made him feel better, but he wondered if their anger had to do more with their anxiety over their own fathers.

The mass of post owls fluttered into the Great Hall. A very large, grumpy looking one dropped a large brown package in front of Persephone and flew off again immediately. Another owl, its feathers such a bright tan they looked golden, flew towards Draco. It was his mother's owl Roughskin. Roughskin landed and dropped a letter next to his plate along with another copy of _The Quibbler_. She did not seem to be angry with him like Oberon but blinked at him patiently until he told her thank you and gave her some bacon. With a graceful flourish, she took back into the air as well.

Draco held up the rolled _Quibbler_. "She's seen it," Draco said. Pansy pursed her lips, and Daphne giggled again. He dropped the paper and picked up the letter. Persephone's large package caught his eye, and he left the letter unopened. "What is that?"

Persephone looked at the package uncertainly. "I don't know." Catching sight of a small note tied to the brown wrapping, she took it gingerly, glanced at it, and smiled. She began to put it away, but Draco held out a hand for it. She gave it to him and untied the string from the package. Draco wanted to tell her to stop but could not think of a way to do this without betraying his paranoia. He looked at the note. The handwriting was vaguely familiar.

_You may need these. Best of luck with your classes. _

_I regret I can no longer take them with you._

_~S.O.S.~_

"Oh, it's my school books," Persephone announced before she had finished unwrapping them.

"You mean you didn't have them," Pansy said incredulously.

"Well, I had to pack in a bit of a hurry," Persephone said vaguely. Her eyes were shining with delight as she opened the fresh books. A second package fell out of the sky, landing its corner in Persephone's eggs and nearly upsetting a pitcher of orange juice. Persephone opened it quickly, and Pansy unbidden helped her tear open the paper. Daphne even reached over to tear a piece away. They exposed a set of black school robes; Draco guessed that there were two pairs from the thickness of the package.

"Doesn't look like you packed at all," said Pansy. Persephone laughed in response and looked twice as delighted as before. Draco frowned at the packages. He knew Persephone needed these things, but he wanted to know who sent them. "Who sent them?" Pansy asked. She had the note in her hand now. "Doesn't S.O.S. mean Save Our Ship?"

Persephone giggled even more furiously. "Yes…and no," she took the note back from Daphne, who had taken it from Pansy, and tucked it fondly into her robe pocket. "It's an inside joke we had."

"Who had?" Pansy asked.

Persephone however just smiled secretively and repressed more giggles. "I best take them to my room before class starts." She stood, and Pansy and Daphne, obviously hoping for more details, stood as well and helped her pick up the packages. "I'll see you later, Draco," she said.

"I'll see you in Potions," Pansy added, and the trio of girls walked off.

o

* * *

o

Draco had thought that seeing Professor Snape in Potions would put him more at ease, but he got the strange feeling that Snape was annoyed with him. He gave Potter five points, but ignored Draco throughout the lesson. Pansy attempted to scoff at Granger's bandage as a petty plea for attention, but this only made Draco feel worse.

He had wanted to say something to Professor Snape about Persephone, but he was not sure what that was. _Hey, so what's it like seeing your friend whose been missing twenty years is back and unaged? _It sounded horribly lame in his head. His mother and Persephone had indicated that they had been particularly close, but as he watched Snape pace the classroom with his careworn face and dark robes, he could not imagine him finding much common ground with Persephone. Or had her absence had something to do with him becoming careworn and dark?

Draco left the classroom at the end of the lesson with the other students and without a word to Professor Snape. He really wanted to have another conversation with Persephone first. Less than a week ago he had been very keen to hand her off, but now he felt pangs of jealousy that the silly sixth year girls were getting all her attention. What he had to discuss with her was so much more important than hair and homework. He marveled at how happy she looked, how oblivious she seemed to be to the danger that was facing them, how at home she seemed dropped twenty years out of time. Why was he the one feeling so miserable and displaced?

At dinner, Professor Snape stopped Draco just long enough to give him instructions to escort the first years to their first Astronomy lesson at midnight. It was one of his prefect duties. Draco sat down next to Persephone at the Slytherin table, but he still could not talk to her like he wanted. Not with the other students around, particularly not near the other Death Eaters' children. He looked up at Professor Snape during the meal and could have sworn that Snape was glowering at him. But why? Was it because as Crabbe had hinted he was actually a Death Eater and knew of Draco's treachery, or did he suspect Draco's connection to the Death Eaters as Draco had wondered before? Or was Draco over thinking things? Maybe Snape had read _The Quibbler_ article and was disgusted by the idea of Draco being a Muggle-lover, as Draco would have been if the situation were reversed.

Draco did not mind the funny looks from the Hufflepuffs or snickers from the Ravenclaws, and his initial burst of anger had expelled any ire he might have felt at the Gryffindors hushed whispers. But those were just students. He respected Professor Snape, and his displeasure weighed heavily on Draco. Draco caught sight of Granger's bushy hair at the Gryffindor table and remembered the glass. Of course Snape had not believed the article. He was too intelligent to read such drivel and knew Draco too well to believe it if he had. Professor Snape, like the rest of the school, had heard how Draco had lost control at breakfast and shattered the glass. He must have been deeply disappointed in him. Draco felt a fresh wave of embarrassment thinking about it.

He had several hours after dinner to dwell on his discomfort. He settled himself into a large chair near the fire and pretended to read as he waited for midnight to roll around. He had intended to read the chapters Dumbledore had assigned, but the borrowed textbook could not hold his attention.

Someone shook him gingerly, and Draco realized he had dozed off in the chair. The first years were collecting in the dim firelight. Persephone hovered over him.

"Do you think I could go with you?" she asked quietly.

Draco nodded as he rose from the chair. He gestured to the first years to gather near the entrance. He started to do a head count, but he had not been paying attention at the start of term feast and did not know exactly how many first years had been sorted. "Is everyone here?" he asked. The first years looked at each other and nodded their heads. They were all so small. Persephone, short as she was, stood head and shoulders above the lot of them. Surely he had not been that baby faced when he started Hogwarts.

"This way." He led them out of the dungeons and up to the Astronomy Tower. Persephone brought up the rear, pretending to be a second guide. He heard a few whispered questions and Persephone's answers but did not try to make any of them out. The first years did not ask him anything directly. Maybe they had heard about the glass and were afraid of him, or maybe it was just the unapproachable aura he was radiating.

He deposited the first years in the Astronomy classroom, and though he had not been instructed to do so, said he would wait to escort them back down.

When the door closed, Persephone took a seat on the steps leading to the tower, and he did the same. For a few minutes, they just sat there. Draco felt exhausted emotionally if not physically. He just wanted to go back to sleep, maybe she would let him lay his head on her lap. But he knew that he could not. He knew Persephone had followed him up here to a private conversation, and though he had wanted to talk to her very much earlier, he could not find the right way to begin. He had to begin however. He was very aware that the minutes would pass too quickly, and it would be hard for them to slip away like this very often without raising suspicions.

Persephone for her part was staring at the far wall, thoughtful, simultaneously distant and extremely present.

"Harry's not really that bad is he?" she said into the silence.

Draco shifted uncomfortably. He had suffered a number of abuses from Potter and his friends. The image of Potter's smirk over the article that morning was still fresh on his mind. But Potter had suffered a number of abuses from Draco and his friends. Verbally, Draco had by far been the worse offender. Potter had been responsible for putting his father in jail but—the thought required a painful push before Draco could bring it to the forefront of his mind—his father had committed every crime Potter had accused him of and more. He de- Draco dropped that line of thinking and pointed his mind back towards Potter. Was Harry Potter really that bad? Knowing everything he knew, examining all the evidence, was Potter… "No, he's not." Draco admitted.

"I've been asking people about him," Persephone said. "The way you described him. I pictured him as another James, but he's not a bully like James, is he? Not as bad as you and the Dursleys made him out." Draco felt she wanted an explanation, but he could not think what to say. "Do you really dislike him so? Do you really hate him that much?"

"I did," Draco said.

"Did?"

"I tried to kill him last year."

Persephone did not seem able to find a response to this. Draco had been intently looking in the direction of his shoes. He stole a glance at her and could see the mixture of disbelief, fear, and confusion in her eyes. "It didn't work obviously."

"What did you do?" she asked cautiously.

Draco shifted uncomfortably again. He felt embarrassed. Not because he felt any great regret for his actions, but because the whole attempt had been so childishly unplanned and clumsily executed. "Potter was sitting in an open window a few floors up. I was taking the Quidditch ball case back to Madam Hooch's office. There was no one in the hall, so I sent a Bludger at him. It knocked him out, but he managed to grab the sill and climb back in. I pretended it had been an accident, but I don't think Potter believed it. Everyone one else seemed to think was funny."

"Funny?"

"They thought I'd thrown a ball at him, alright," Draco said, remembering Crabbe and Goyle's guffaws, Pansy's flippant 'too bad', the bizarre running gag that had popped up among the other Quidditch players…'Try it again at the next game, it'll look more like an accident'…'Watch out for any Bludgers coming from Draco's direction, they're lethal'…"They just couldn't believe I actually thought it would kill him. That I was actually trying to kill."

Persephone did not seem to find anything funny about the story at all. She looked very serious. Draco had wanted to disillusion her, snuff out the absurd "hero" image she had had of him, but now that he had achieved his goal to some degree, he was very worried that she would never look at him admiringly again. He hoped she would find someway of glossing it over, someway of telling him that he was taking it too seriously. He wanted her to tell him that he was really not that bad either.

"Do you still want to kill him?" she asked. A hardness had crept into her tone.

"No," Draco told her. "I'm glad I failed. I don't hate him anymore."

"Why?" The hard edge had left her tone, but her eyes were still apprehensive.

Draco shrugged. His mind flicked back over the summer. "I don't know. I guess I finally figured out that Harry isn't the enemy. Hard to hate a bloke after you spend the night in his bed."

Draco winced at his last sentence. "That didn't come out right."

Persephone caught on and sniggered. Draco pursed his lips to fight a bashful smile. Persephone sniggered again, which gave way to repressed giggling. Draco could feel himself blush. "If you ever tell anyone that I said that…" but there was no real threat in his tone.

Persephone attempted to look indignant. "What? You'll hurl a Bludger at me?"

Draco choked back a laugh and shook his head. He felt much lighter. She had taken him seriously, completely seriously, and forgiven him all the same. It had been such a relief to tell someone the truth and have them react appropriately to it. He had resisted telling his father because he had failed. When Lucius found out anyway, he had just told Draco 'better luck next time'. He had had to lie to Professor Snape about it. No matter how much his professor disliked Potter, Draco doubted he would gloss over attempted murder.

"Have you spoken to him?" Draco asked her. She nodded. "What did he say?"

"Well, I mean, I spoke to him, but I didn't tell him yet," Persephone admitted. It was her turn to look embarrassed. "I mean, I tried but-" She suddenly whirled on him. "Why didn't you tell me that Severus was teaching here!"

"Oh, I-uh-thought it would be a nice surprise for you," he managed. He had thought she might be angry with him for hiding the information, and she was attempting to look cross. Her delight was too strong, however, and she twitched into a funny sort of smile.

"I could have had a heart attack," she said with hand placed dramatically over her heart. "Oh mon!"

"So what's it like seeing him after all these years?" asked Draco conversationally.

"Wonderful!" she said. She seemed to remember the first years just beyond the classroom door for she kept her voice down, but it was a struggle. Her face was very bright, and her voice turned breathy as she tried to curb its volume. "Oh mon! He looks so good."

Draco blinked at her in surprise. He did not claim to be an expert on what made for a good-looking male from a girl's perspective, but if he had guessed, he would have picked the teenage Snape in the photographs over his professor. Persephone either picked up on his confusion or just wanted to keep talking about it. "He's gotten taller, since I saw him last. And he's got this—I don't know—_presence_ about him. And his _voice_, mm, it's gotten deeper, richer, like velvet." She shuddered with pleasure. "I could listen to him talk all day."

Draco felt even more taken aback than he had a minute ago. There was something wrong about her wistful expression. She was looking at the ceiling, but there was a hunger in her eyes that seemed very off. For the first time he got the strong impression that Persephone was not a sixteen-year-old girl, but a grown woman near forty trapped in a teenagers body. She looked back at Draco and regarded him coolly for a moment, before the girlish grin stole back across her face. "He looked for me," she confided in a voice just above a whisper. Her eyes were shining. "Everyone else gave up, but he looked for me. I had wondered…" She looked away from him again and stared off into her own thoughts. "…if he really cared for me, but I know now."

Draco felt his stomach twist. "You mean…" He was not sure why the words were so hard to push out or why his brain protested to loudly to the rather obvious conclusion. "…he was your boyfriend?"

Persephone blushed and looked at Draco shyly. "No, we were just friends, but I'd rather been hoping…I suspected he might like me a bit that way, but he was really shy about things like that. The day I disappeared he had asked me to the Leaving Dance. Severus told me it took him nearly two years to work up the courage." Her cheeks were very red.

Draco's mouth felt dry. "You don't still fancy him, do you?"

Persephone nodded. "I _adore_ him!" She looked excited enough to explode. Draco realized that she, like he, must have been bottling up for the past two days. "Oh mon! I spent twenty years, wondering how he'd turn out, what he was like now. I worried sometimes, but he's everything I could have hoped for…more…better. He's gorgeous. He's absolutely wonderful, and he hasn't forgotten me! He didn't forget me at all!"

"But he's a professor!" Draco gaped at her. The twisting in his stomach was getting worse.

"I know!" Persephone continued as though he had just given a compliment instead of an objection. "Oh, I'm so happy for him. He was so anxious about what he was going to do with himself. I think it's excellent that he found something as fulfilling as a teaching position!"

Draco groped for words. "I know…but uh, I mean…does he…are you saying that he still fancies you?"

Persephone's mouth formed an 'o' shape, and she looked down. Her blush settled into steady, more flattering pink. The aura of maturity Draco sensed earlier was gone, and she was back to looking exceptionally young. "I don't know," she said sedately. "I mean, well…I know he cares about me, but it's been twenty years, hasn't it? And he's a professor and all…" She started playing with her fingers. "I hope he does, though. Even if he can't show it right now, I really hope he does."

Draco rather hoped he did not, or that he would at the very least have the good sense not to show it. Maybe he was being selfish, but his world had been toppled quite enough without his teacher dating the student he had brought to Hogwarts. No matter how unfair time had been, that would cause a nasty scandal, and he would feel responsible.

"There's a dance this year," Persephone said wistfully. "I know it sounds silly, but I am looking forward to it already. I heard your dance was cancelled last year. I really hope this one isn't. I didn't get to go our dance…the one he asked me to. I went through it in my mind a thousand times. I kept hoping someone would find me in time to let me go…Dreaming about it and being there aren't the same, though. I do so want to go…even if he can't take me."

Maybe there was something magic about being female that allowed them to go up and down their emotional roller coasters without getting dizzy. Draco was still on his disgust and irritation and felt guilt as they collided with her sudden melancholy. She had not asked for this anymore than he had. How had he been so base as to be disgusted with her, when all she wanted was a dance she had been denied with the boy she liked? It was such a simple, bittersweet fantasy. His fantasies were so much more deplorable.

She smiled and tried to sound conversational. "Who are you taking to the dance, Draco?"

"I don't know," Draco said, thrown again by the question. The dance was months away and the last thing on his mind.

"Well, who would you want to take? Who do _you_ fancy?" asked Persephone.

Draco hesitated. Pansy Parkinson had never tried very hard to hide her interest in Draco. Draco certainly thought Pansy was pretty, with her swanlike neck, smooth white skin, and sleek dark hair, but her charms had ceased to impress him. He had kissed Pansy a grand total of three times. Each time she had been so happy that she had told everyone in Slytherin House who would listen, which made him disinclined to kiss her again. He had had a lovely make-out session with Daphne Greengrass last year, which neither of them had told anyone about, but the instance still baffled him. Daphne had shown no further interest in him before or afterwards, though that may have been for fear of Pansy's reaction. It was neither Daphne nor Pansy who haunted his dreams or waking fantasies, however.

"Come on," Persephone prompted. "There's got to be someone you want to dance with."

Yes, there was. She stepped into his mind in light blue dress robes, an impossible, unwanted, yet persistent fantasy.

"Tell me," Persephone persisted. She was smiling genuinely now, intrigued by his silence.

He wanted to tell her. She was his secret keeper. But this secret was old and deep and resisted telling. He knew how some would react, but he also knew, hoped, that Persephone would never be disgusted by him. "You'll laugh," he said.

"I promise I won't," she almost laughed with those words. "Tell me."

The name hovered just below his throat. Maybe he wanted her to laugh, to tell him it was ridiculous. Maybe if he could just get the name out, tell someone, it would stop building inside him. Surely keeping it locked down so tightly was what had caused it to fester as it had. Still, the web of fear and shame that kept the name tied down was not easily swept away. _Just say it,_ he told himself. _Just get it over with._ His voice was quiet, but he forced himself to speak clearly enough she would not ask him to repeat the name. He cast one last glance about to make sure no one else had wandered up to the tower. "Granger."

To Persephone's credit, she did not laugh, but it was a near thing. Her eyes widened, and her grin became painfully broad. "_Hermione_ Granger? The-um-bossy, know-it-all Mudblood who told you to 'shove it'?"

Draco nodded once and avoided looking directly at Persephone. "Really? Oh, well that explains why you mentioned her _one_ or _two_—_thousand_ times this summer," said Persephone. He felt the color rising in his cheeks and smiled weakly. She was making light of it, so it was just silly and not shameful. "I think she's pretty. You should ask her."

"You heard her when I asked yesterday."

"I mean ask her nicely, sincerely."

There was a thoughtful thread to her tone that told Draco she was giving advice. "I can't," he said.

"Why not?"

Draco's smile faded. Had he not already told her? "She's a Mudblood."

Persephone snorted softly. "Like that matters," she said. Draco was not watching her face, but from her tone, he guessed she was rolling her eyes.

He looked at her again in time to see her eyes finish their roll and settle back upon him. How could she be that clueless and naïve? He thought she understood him, his situation better than that. "Have you met my father?" he hissed at her.

"Well, Lucius and I never really saw eye to eye on that subject," she said in the same dismissive tone.

"He'd _kill_ me," Draco said, not certain whether he was exaggerating.

"No, he wouldn't," Persephone insisted. "He might not be thrilled, but you're his only son. Blood's important to him."

"Exactly, _Pureblood_'s important to him. At best, he'd disown me. They did it to my Aunt Andromeda. I didn't even know she existed until I was thirteen."

"_Now_ you're worried about being disowned?" she asked in a tone both cautious and bemused, which brought back the memory of his flight from the manor and _The Quibbler_ article.

Draco felt his stomach turn, and a dark mood set on him as though a sudden rain cloud had descended. "It doesn't matter," he said, trying to sound equally dismissive but ending up with a sulky mixture of despair and irritation. "She'd never go, even if I did ask her nicely. She hates me."

"Surely not," Persephone soothed with a sympathetic frown. He saw a small glint of the admiration in Persephone's eyes. It was something he knew that he would never see from Hermione, though at that moment, he noticed a faint resemblance between the two girls. This took him aback, and he forgot to respond. "Why do you think she hates you?"

The long list of offenses he had committed against Hermione Granger and the even longer list of the ones he had considered committing unfurled in his mind. "For starters I called her a filthy little Mudblood," he said.

Persephone's mouth fell open a little. "To her face?"

Draco nodded. "More than once," he told her evenly. He felt no guilt for this particular crime. Granger was a Mudblood. Why should he regret saying so? He knew it was yet another thing that widened the gulf between them, a sort of protective barrier. "Pretty much every time we've spoken for the last five years."

Persephone winced.

"And then, I tried to kill her mate Harry last year and that couldn't have endeared me to her. Fifth year, I allied myself with Umbridge and got on the Inquisitorial Squad, which made most everyone from the other Houses hate me, Hermione in particular. No, I'm not going to explain Umbridge, though I'm sure you could get an earful from anyone else you want to ask," he answered the question that was beginning to form on her lips. "Fourth year, I helped Rita Skeeter write nasty stories about her and her friends in _Witch Weekly _and _The Dailey Prophet_, and before that I hexed her front teeth so that they grew a foot or so in length. Well…you get the idea. I've stood against everything and everyone she has stood for, so naturally, she hates me."

Persephone's wince grew more pronounced with each item, and at the mention of Hermione's teeth her jaw dropped, so that she finished the list with a pitying look of mild horror. "That's…a lot…to apologize for," she said slowly.

"I don't want to apologize," Draco retorted. The horror faded from Persephone's expression leaving the pity. "I'm not sorry about any of it, and it wouldn't do any good, if I was."

Persephone studied him for a long moment. "Do you like her?"

"She's a Mudblood," he repeated.

"That wasn't the question. Do you like her?"

"She _hates_ me," he repeated firmly.

"Do…you…like her?"

"She's a bossy, self-righteous, know it all."

"But do you like her?"

Draco felt heat rising in him, though he was not sure if it was anger or something more ambiguous. Did he like her? "It's not that simple," he began slowly but found himself speaking with greater speed, trying to explain everything with the same velocity it impacted inside him. "I want her. I dream about her, but I don't know if I like her. I hate her. I hate what she is. I hate what she represents. I want to hurt her. But then, I want to hurt anyone who hurts her. I can't stand hurting her, and I hate myself when I do. Then I hate the fact that I'm weak like that, so I try to hurt her again. I keep hearing my father's voice in my head. I'm not supposed to feel regret, not over a Mudblood. And so I think maybe insults are a good compromise, if I can just keep insulting her, it will keep my father happy, and I know they don't hurt her like they would some people. She just ignores them, and then I get angry when she ignores me, so I push it further. If I can cut her enough with my tongue, she'll retort, and that's the only way I can talk to her. And I like it when she talks to me. Even when she's being insulting, because I know she's aware of me, that I effect her somehow, and that makes me happy, but I can't I show it. I don't dare smile, because there's always people watching. My mates are always with me, and her mates are always with her. And if I did ever manage to get her alone, I'd probably go dumb. I know I would. On those incredibly rare instances when it's just me and her passing in the hall, we just avoid looking at each other. And the fact that she reacts the exact same way I do, makes me feel like she understands on some level, but naturally that's all in my head. She couldn't possibly understand." Draco was aware he was babbling, but it was as though he had pulled out the cork of well-shaken bottle. If he kept verbalizing, maybe he would find some sense or maybe Persephone would. She had known Draco's father, who he was supposed to so much like at his age, maybe that would give her some special insight.

"The whole bloody things my father's fault, anyway. How does he expect me to look down on her, when he's using her as measuring stick?" He took to imitating his father's voice. "'Honestly, Draco, I'd think you'd be ashamed a Mudblood out does you in each exam'. 'Well, that's a little better this year, Draco, but I see Granger's still ahead of you. Can't have that can we?' 'I suppose six O's is respectable, but if you had pushed yourself a little harder you could have matched Granger's eight.' Well, Granger doesn't have Quidditch on her plate does she?" he spat falling back in to his own voice. "It doesn't come naturally to me like it does her, like it did to him, I worked hard for those O's."

Persephone twitched as though to say something but deciding not to. He was glad for her silence. She would try to diffuse him, and he was not done exploding.

"I worked really hard…but nothing impresses him. Nothing. I make prefect, and well, that was expected. Not everyone gets on the house teams, you know. Doesn't matter how many games I win though, or how many Snitches I catch. It's all about not making Quidditch Captain. Not beating Potter. I don't wanna be the stupid Quidditch Captain, I'm far too busy trying to get all those bloody O's. How'd he expect me to get head boy with Potter around anyway? Like Dumbledore would ever make a Death Eater's son head boy, but oh, no, none of this is ever dad's fault.

"It would serve him right if I did marry a Mudblood." Draco ran his hand through his hair using it to discretely wipe off the angry tear he had shed. His breathing was hard now that he had stopped speaking. He took a moment to steady it and mulled over his last sentence. "No, no, I don't want to pursue a relationship out of anger or revenge. I don't want to sabotage myself that way." He dropped his face into his hands and massaged his temples. "I just…I just…I don't know. I'm not sure what I want with Hermione is a relationship."

Persephone was sitting very still. He chanced a glance at her to find her face a thoughtful, sympathetic mask. Her silver eyes studied him. She opened her mouth experimentally and when he made no objection, she spoke. "Why do you want to dance with her? If it's so confusing, why hold on to the fantasy so tightly."

The words from the _Quibbler_ article played back through his mind _love, lust, or simply teenage_ _rebellion_. Lust, that certainly came in to play. He was a healthy seventeen-year-old male, and Hermione was a fairly pretty female, though no prettier than Pansy or Daphne or any number of other girls he knew. Rebellion played its part as well, more strongly as his parents pulled away from him, and he been given copious amounts of time to ponder the unfairness of it all. His parental loyalty had ebbed and flowed in the past two years, waxing and waning in cycles along with his loyalty to their ideals. Again however, there were safer choices he could use to express his anger. Hogwarts was hardly short on Mudbloods and half-breeds. So why had his addled brain settled on Hermione Granger? "I guess I just feel like if I could have a real conversation with her, a little time. I could figure out how I really feel about her. I don't know if it's even Hermione that I want, maybe it's this image I have of her. This fantasy Hermione who likes me and smiles at me and talks to me."

The smallest hint of a smile graced Persephone's lips. "What do you like about the real Hermione?" she asked patiently.

Draco thought this over, but the release of his anger had cleared his mind again so that the thoughts formed more readily. "She's smart, real smart. I used to resent it, but I rather admire it about her now. I just resent being measured against her. And she's passionate, aware. She cares about more than just her appearance and the current gossip. She has this stupid little house-elf awareness organization she started a few years back called Spew. Load of nonsense, but I think it's…cute…that she cares about things as lowly as house-elves and Hippogriffs."

"Hippogriffs?" Persephone repeated, clearly confused as to how they figured into the conversation. Draco waved his hand dismissively to show it was not important.

"She stands up to me. I think she's the first girl to have done that. Pansy and Daphne and their clique they just go along with anything I say or do, because I'm rich and I have influence or something. It's not that I want them to argue with me all the time, but I just feel like I'm talking to myself when I'm with them. Actually I think that is what I want. I want someone to argue with me once in a while, to tell me when I'm being a git. I've been an absolute ass to Pansy at times, and she never stands up to me, none of them do. I know Granger would. Is that twisted? Am I completely deranged to want some who'll slap me?"

Persephone shook her head. "James always said he loved a girl who would argue with him. I'm not sure he would have fancied the slapping though." She cocked her head with that odd scowl which reminded him of Hermione.

"I don't like being slapped," he said quickly. "I just mean she won't take guff."

"I know," Persephone smirked. "I was teasing. So you would love a good row now and then, sounds healthy."

Draco frowned. Love? The word was batted around so carelessly by the Slytherin girls and approached apprehensively by the boys. If he had the nerve to speak to any of them about it, and they could see past their disgust, they would call his confusion love. Draco felt some gratitude that Persephone had been more conservative in her wording, and not asked him if he loved Hermione. He felt that his understanding of love was more sophisticated than the average teenagers and therefore more sacred. "I don't know what I feel for her except that it's fierce and complicated…and that's not love is it? Love isn't supposed to be complicated."

Persephone smiled a small wistful, approving smile. She dropped her eyes and again gave Draco the impression that she was much older and wiser than her sixteen-year-old form portrayed. "No, it's not complicated. It can be fierce, but love is very simple." Her eyes met his again, and her smile widened a bit as though to say _see, you have a much better grasp of things than you thought_. He felt some relief that she agreed with him. His philosophy of love was another thing he was reluctant to talk over with his social circle, but hearing it from someone else increased its validity for him and made the idea more solid.

"Love is pure and powerful," Persephone continued more to herself than to him. "But simple. Always simple. I think it's all our other thoughts and emotions that complicate it. Our anger…our fear…our nature to be selfish… Romance is complicated… It's so tied up with that selfishness, but love itself is very simple. I think when we learn to sort it out from all the other strands, we start to understand it."

Draco nodded, realizing she was trying out her theories on him just as he had on her. He also realized that he felt more comfortable with her talking about these things because she was female and her gender provided her with protection from the social reproach associated with verbalizing emotions. It was an old fashion idea of social order than even some of his Slytherin friends would have reproached him for, but the hypocrites followed it all the same.

"You should ask Hermione Granger to the dance!" Persephone said so sharply and suddenly, that he jumped a little.

"Brilliant idea, except that she would never go with me," Draco said dryly, feeling like they had already had this part of the conversation.

"I think she might. Yes, I think it's doable, if you'll listen to me," she was speaking with conviction. He opened his mouth to object, but she cut him off. "I know a little something about these things. If you just want to get your jollies, I can't help you, but if you care about Hermione on some level, I can tell you how to get her to dance with you."

She was serious. She was absolutely serious. "Are you mad?" he hissed and had to remind himself to watch his volume. "Haven't you been listening? She's not just a Mudblood. She's allied with Harry Potter and Dumbledore. My father would _kill_ me. We are still on the run, Persephone. Didn't you read that note? Voldemort's not happy with me, but maybe if I keep my head down, he'll ignore me for larger prey. I keep trying to explain this to you. Why can't you understand? I'm not brave. I'm scared. I'm terrified. We have some protection at Hogwarts, but that won't last."

"Do you honestly think you can make things up to Voldemort?" she asked coolly, mercilessly, spitting Voldemort's name, but otherwise keeping her voice too calm. "You think he'll let you stay on neutral ground, knowing what you know? Or am I that confused, do you want to work with that murderer?"

Draco's thoughts turned to Evra Tomes, and he felt sick again. Persephone, of course, was thinking of her parents and brother, and he felt sicker, more loathing, as it clicked in his mind that Voldemort had hurt Persephone as well. He had stolen her parents as well as his. He had stolen Potter's parents, and Crabbe and Goyle's fathers. "No, no…I have no loyalties to Voldemort," he said softly. "But my father…my mother…what if he takes out what I do on them? Or what if he turns them against me? Don't you understand that I love them? I know what they've done, but I still love them."

Persephone's features softened. "I do understand," she said softly but firmly. "They were my best friends, Draco. I imagine I care about Lucius nearly as much as you do, but you can't let him control you. Even if things were much simpler, you're of age now. You are practically an adult, and you can't rely on your parents to make your decisions anymore. You have to decide your own course. You have to let them take the consequences for their actions, and you have to be responsible for your own. That has nothing to do with Death Eaters, that's just growing up.

"I know you're scared. You'd be an idiot if you weren't scared. I'm scared. But I am not letting Voldemort control me through fear, and I don't think you should either."

"I don't like being afraid," Draco began but was stopped by the creak of the Astronomy room door. He got to his feet quickly. Persephone stood with more dignity and managed another glowing smile as the first years appeared. The first years all came out looking tired and quietly followed Draco down the long sets of stairs to the Slytherin common room. From there they marched obediently back up the short steps to their dormitories. His last sentence had resounded in his head during the descent. He did not like being afraid. When he was younger his father had often told him _the only way to defeat a fear is to face it_. The platitude seemed as useless as ever. He felt it was wiser to fear Voldemort than face him, but Granger on the other hand.

Draco put a hand on Persephone's forearm to hold her back. She paused a few steps up and waited until the first years were safely away before turning back to Draco. "If…and I'm only saying if, I decided to ask Granger, how would you have me go about it?" He had his doubts about Persephone's abilities, but she was the only anchor he had left.

"You should start by apologize for that thing with the glass this morning," she said in a business like manner.

Draco felt a shadow of his earlier embarrassment and indignation. "That was an accident, and I did apologize."

Persephone smiled as though this was unexpectedly intelligent of him. "That's good."

"She didn't accept it."

"Doesn't matter. She heard it."

"So is that it? Apologize? Cause I told you…"

"No," Persephone shook her head. "You should apologize for glass because it's so recent, but there's no point in apologizing for anything else right now. We need to be careful how we do this…"

"I don't want to trick her into liking me either," he said.

Persephone cocked her eyebrow as though to say _this is one of my plans not yours_. "No tricks. We'll keep it very simple to start with and that way you'll have room to change your mind." Draco waited patiently for her to continue. "First thing, you have to stop calling her a Mudblood."

"Okay."

"And I don't mean just to her face. Don't call her a Mudblood around your mates either. Second, don't tease her anymore. Shouting across the Great Hall to get a laugh out of your mates does not make a good impression. Let's try to avoid hurling shards glass at her while we're at it too."

"That was an accident!"

"Well, let's try to avoid further accidents then. And third, try to do something nice if you can. Nothing overt or grand, just get the door if you're standing next to it or say good morning or something along that line. Try acting civil for a while, and we'll see how she responds."

Draco considered this. It did seem fairly low risk, not nearly as intimidating as the grand gesture he was afraid she would want him to make. "Fine, I'll try it."

Persephone took the hand he still had on her forearm and gave it a light squeeze. "Goodnight." She released his hand and ascended the steps.

"Wait," Draco said, and she paused, looking back over her shoulder. "Who sent you those packages?"

Persephone laughed. "I thought that was obvious," she replied and vanished into the girls' dormitory.


	6. The Nightmares of Thomas Dey

**Disclaimer:** This story is based on the Harry Potter novels written by J.K. Rowling. All characters created by J.K. Rowling are owned by J.K. Rowling. The few characters created by me (i.e. Persephone, Hotchet, Kagome…) belong to me, but are available for use in other fics as long as I get credited as their creator. None of us are making any money off this and no infringement is intended.

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**Level 2.4: The Nightmares of Thomas Dey**

Draco chewed on his sausage at breakfast. Millicent and Goyle were looking at each other with dopey expressions, and it finally occurred to him that they had become an item over the summer. Blaise Zabini grabbed his morning scone before wandering off again. It was a daily ritual for Zabini, but Draco had stopped taking notice of it years ago.

Crabbe tried to engage him in Quidditch discussion. Draco responded to some degree, but he found more of his brain taken up by Indigo's new hair color. The first thing he had done after he had decided to stay at Hogwarts was wash the temporary dye out of his hair. He had tried to hide under the brown coloring, and he wondered if that was what Indigo was trying to do. Hide.

Indigo for her part was watching Daphne and trying to mimic her posture but frequently retreating to her normal slump whenever anyone looked her way. She reminded him of a rabbit peeping out of her burrow.

The owls brought Persephone another package. This one contained a standard potion ingredients kit. Draco read the short note attached to it.

_Think of the ocean between us as a rather inconvenient pond, _

_and let me know if you require anything more._

~S.O.S.~

The obvious finally clicked for him. "Initials. They're intials."

Persephone nodded while she played with the little ingredient filled glass bottles.

"What does the 'O' stand for?"

"Oliver," Persephone said.

"Oliver?" Draco repeated.

"Who's Oliver?" Pansy asked. Draco glanced involuntarily at the teachers table. Professor Snape was watching them, and Draco caught his eye before he looked away. There was no warmth in the return gaze.

"He was my best friend at my old school," said Persephone. When Draco looked back, she gave him a secretive smile.

"Oh, it's sweet," Daphne said. She had managed to acquire the short note.

"Let me see." Pansy took the note. "Why doesn't he just sign it Oliver?"

"Well, that's his middle name for one," Crabbe said irritably.

"Inconvenient pond…" Indigo peeped in a sort of dreamy voice, then passed the note on to Alice.

Alice frowned at it, obviously not finding it all that stirring but not wanting to be left out. "Do you miss him?"

"Yes," Persephone said, smiling openly. "But it's almost like he's here with me." Draco felt his brow knit, and he tried to focus on his sausage.

"You've got a crush don't you?" Daphne said, grinning with meddlesome delight. "Oh, she's blushing! Isn't it cute?" Daphne reached past Pansy to pet Persephone on the top of her silvery head, which just made Persephone's cheeks pinker.

Pansy's eyes lit up. "Were you particularly fond of each other?" she asked.

It took a lot of self-restraint for Draco to resist the urge to bang his head on the table. "I'm done," he muttered. He took one last gulp of pumpkin juice before standing. Crabbe and Goyle took some frantic last bites before following him.

As he was leaving, Hermione entered, and the sight of her brought such a rapid change to his mood he broke step for a moment. No one noticed. Crabbe and Goyle thought he had paused to wait for them. Hermione gave no indication of having seen him, and he was careful not to watch her.

Not that he needed to. He had watched her make her way to the Gryffindor table so many mornings over the past seven years that he knew how she would shift her book bag, at what point she would turn to take her seat, how her bushy brown hair would bounce and catch the light from a certain window creating a short lived halo effect. For once, this reaction to her did not immediately spark self-reproach. He was not plagued by the imagined disapproval of his father. It was _okay_ that he had watched Hermione. _It was okay_ that he liked seeing her. _Did you hear that, father? It's okay._

To be fair this preoccupation with Hermione was as much his mother's fault as his father's. She had raised him on fairy tales. Princesses in fairy tales were always in danger or in hiding. The ones in hiding always had some special qualities that only the prince could see. In many of Draco's fantasies Hermione was adopted, the lost heiress of a proper wizarding family, a princess in disguise. It explained her extraordinary talents to such satisfaction that he half believed it. But that was his fantasy Hermione. He had yet to discover whether or not the real Hermione was a princess.

While he had been physically present at Hogwarts for over a week, his thoughts had been so inwardly bent that he felt like he had been walking around in one of those darkness clouds Dumbledore had used in their first Dark Arts lesson, barely noticing anything that did not directly affect him. He still felt as though the darkness was hovering around him, but it had cleared a bit.

As he walked to class, he became aware of how many portraits lined the walls of Hogwarts. Before he had never considered them more than noisy decoration, but now, he watched the images of the witches and wizards inside them wander from frame to frame, whispering to one another and watching the students. What a wonderful network of spies Dumbledore had set up. No wonder the old fool seemed to know everything. Draco felt pleased to have unlocked one of the Headmaster's secrets, though he wondered how he could have been so dense as not to realize it before.

Persephone must have realized it. The Astronomy Tower was remarkably void of portraits. It had probably been the reason that she had spoken to him so freely there and kept her manner so guarded everywhere else.

He was taking Persephone's advice, clinging to her words like a lost child, so any sign of intelligence from her was particularly comforting. His objective with Hermione was hardly as lofty as Persephone's. He doubted he would ever be able to talk Granger into attending any dance with him. Even if she would, he was not certain he would stay at Hogwarts that long. The possibility of immediate flight stayed on his mind at all times. He kept his small bag of gems in his pocket wherever he went, just in case. This dance project with Hermione was doomed to fail anyway and served merely as a way to pass the time until he had to flee…but it would be nice if he could get her to stop hating him.

When Hermione dropped her books in the Charms corridor, it was too perfect an opportunity. Draco detached himself from Crabbe and Goyle. He crossed the distance between them in two long quick strides, scooped up the two dropped books, and presented them to Hermione from a dropped knee position. He placed them on top of the third book she had managed to hold with her bandaged hand. Catching sight off the bandage, he added, "It was an accident, you know," before getting back to his feet and continuing on to Charms.

He took a moment alone to savor his small victory, before rejoining his friends. In his opinion the whole thing could not have gone better. He felt that he had done it all in one fluid motion. The knee position was a nice subtle touch, rather prince-like, but so quick as to have not been overdone. Hermione's stunned expression had been absolutely delicious. He tried to keep his smile in check.

He settled into the seat between Crabbe and Goyle in the Charms classroom. Hermione was not the only one who looked stunned. "What did you do?" Goyle asked in hushed tones. Crabbe was giving him the same half-curious, half-concerned look.

"What do you mean?" Draco asked.

"You did something to Granger's books, didn't you?" Crabbe prompted.

"No, not a thing," said Draco. He was mildly amused by the confused looks they gave him. He looked across the classroom to see Granger and Potter prodding the books as if expecting them to explode. Draco choked back a laugh. He could hardly have caused them more distress if he had slipped something inside the cover.

Crabbe and Goyle continued to look confused. He gave each of them a quick wink and let them misinterpret it as they would. They both chuckled and relaxed.

He contemplated the matter over lunch and made plans to try again when Granger would be away from Potter and Weasley's influence. They both had Astronomy that evening. He would still have Crabbe and Goyle in tow, but they were usually both half asleep by then.

Transfiguration class had them creating doors out of various sections of the classroom wall. Draco could imagine an endless number of useful ways to apply the spell, so he pushed thoughts of Hermione aside to pay attention. This was their first attempt and thus a practice day, but eventually their doors were going to be graded on two main points. The first being whether they actually opened to what lay beyond the wall and the second on style.

Goyle created a rather large, ornate set of double doors, which refused to budge no matter how hard they tugged on the gilded latches. The latches themselves retained the feel of stone. Crabbe went for a simpler approach creating a red colonial style door. It opened but revealed only another layer of the thick stone wall. Draco's door opened onto the adjacent, though currently empty, classroom. He had purposefully left the door looking like the stone he had made it out of with a very discreet crack serving as a handle. He thought the idea rather clever. Unfortunately McGonagall was rather set in her opinion of what constituted style.

Well, I thought it was clever, fantasy Hermione said in his ear. She put her hand on his shoulder and slid up next to him with a seductive grace that Daphne Greengrass would have envied but spoke in cool, logical Hermione tones.

_Go Away_, he told her…it. He stole a glance at the real Hermione. Her French doors were neatly cracked to show the other classroom beyond, and Weasley was watching her with a mixture of admiration and irritation. Potter hardly seemed to be paying attention. His door looked familiar, and after a moment Draco realized it was the door to Harry's bedroom, not the one at Hogwarts but the one from Privet Drive. It even had that weird little cat-flap towards the bottom.

He felt like he was getting some special insight into Potter's psyche but lacked the training to interpret it. At the end of class McGonagall waved her wand and turned all their doors back into solid wall.

He excused himself from Crabbe and Goyle that afternoon by muttering something about prefect duties. It was probably ridiculous, but he wanted to talk to the school portraits. Normally this was something he avoided as much as possible, talking portraits had always annoyed him. He preferred photographs, which moved but stayed silent.

"Hello," he said to a portrait of a small girl in bonnet.

"Hello," she replied with an elegant little curtsy.

Draco checked the hall to make sure no one was close enough to listen. "Are…are you a painting?"

The girl giggled furiously. "Of course I am."

"Right," Draco said gruffly. He felt silly enough without the painting laughing at him. He was tempted to abandon the whole exercise but knew the same questions would come back to haunt him later. "Who are you? I mean, who are you supposed to be a painting of?"

"The Duchess of Manchester," she curtsied again. "But you can call me Isabelle. And I know who you are. You're Draco Malfoy."

Draco tried not to show how disconcerted this intelligence made him feel. "How long have you been here?"

"Oh, about a hundred years or so, I think," Isabelle's portrait said. "I remember your father and your grandfather and your great grand father. But your father I remember better because he had that long hair just the color of yours. Boys aren't really supposed to wear their hair that long, but he got away with it. He used to walk Narcissa Black to class."

Draco felt a muscle tighten in his throat and swallowed to relax it. "You can travel to other portraits can't you?"

"Oh, yes," the portrait said. "There's a nice young witch in the fourth floor corridor I like to play with sometimes."

Draco had asked Persephone the same question, when they still back at the Malfoy's manor. _If you're bored why don't you go visit the other paintings?_

_Because, I can't. I'm not a painting. I'm stuck in here._

"Are there any portraits you can't get into?" he asked.

"Well, some of the others are a tad territorial," Isabelle confided in a low voice. "Lot of older wizards are a bit stodgy."

"I can imagine," he replied. "But…are there any portraits…are there any subjects that are stuck in their portrait?"

The girl blinked at him as though this was an incredibly strange thing for him to ask. "No, not that I know of," she said slowly.

It was probably a ridiculous idea that anyone could be trapped in a portrait at Hogwarts, but then a couple months ago, he would have said it was ridiculous for anyone to be trapped in a portrait in his attic. "So, what's it like? Being a painting?"

The girl continued to look at him with the same blank expression. "I don't understand."

"You have the memories of the witch that you're a painting of right? So you should remember what it's like to be human to live outside a painting? So how is this different?"

The girl played with her skirt as though she was considering another curtsy. "I have some memories, but I don't really understand what you mean."

"Are you happy?"

The girl cocked her head. "Happy?"

"Do you ever feel sad?" Draco tried. "Do you ever want to get out?"

"Out of what?"

"Your painting."

"I told you I go play with the young witch on the fourth floor."

"No, I mean out of paintings all together. Like I am."

Isabelle laughed. It was a very pretty, little girl laugh, but it struck Draco as very empty. "That's silly," she said.

He had had enough and walked away without a word. He glanced back over his shoulder to see if Isabelle was annoyed by his rudeness, but she just waved goodbye to him blissfully.

o

* * *

o

Later that evening he climbed the steps to the Astronomy Tower, this time for his own class. Crabbe and Goyle were with him again. He had been careful to stall them at the foot of the stairs, making sure that Hermione got a few minutes head start before following. He wanted her to settle into her spot before he got there. Professor Sinistra was consistently strict about her seating policy, you pick a window first night and you stay there for the year. She claimed it helped her know who was talking in the often-dim classroom.

Each window had a telescope (they were set up low so the tired students could sit on the floor while star gazing). Like every year, Crabbe and Goyle took the two seats closest to the door, and Hermione had set herself up along the opposite wall of the circular room. Draco would guess about half the students in the class had come. There would still be a few blank windows since this was an advanced class and a lot of students had given it up for more practical courses. He licked his lips, hoping he could time it all just right.

"I think I dropped it on the stairs," he told the back of Crabbe and Goyle's heads. "I'll be right back." Being just as sleepy as he had predicted, they merely made grunts of acknowledgement. He hurried back out the doors and then slowly down the staircase.

Alice and Indigo passed him on the way up. Alice stifled a yawn, and Indigo gave him a shy smile. "See you in class?"

"Sure, I'll be up in a minute."

When they were safely in the classroom, he stopped bothering to descend and simply watched the bottom of the stairs while other students filed past him. "Come on," he murmured. He felt a brief moment of worry, and then he spotted Zabini. Zabini began his slow ascent, slow because he kept one hand on the rail and held an open book in the other. Draco went to meet him. "Hey, Zabini."

Zabini looked up with a slightly confused expression. He looked slightly more confused when he realized that Draco had been the one to call to him.

"Do me a favor," Draco said. "Take the third seat on left when you get to the classroom."

His brow furrowed into an even more quizzical expression. He looked ready to ask Draco a question but shrugged, marked and closed his book, and continued up the stairs. Draco followed him back up but tarried a minute until he saw Professor Sinistra start her ascent before following him inside. Sure enough, Zabini had taken the gap the other Slytherins had left for Draco. Zabini had much darker coloring than Draco but was about the same height and build. Crabbe was adjusting his telescope and Goyle had his head in his hands, so neither of them had noticed the substitution. Indigo in the fourth seat had noticed but was still too surprised or timid to say anything. Alice in seat five would not care until someone else brought the issue up. Next to Alice was her Ravenclaw friend Lisa Turpin and next to her another Ravenclaw girl Su Li and next to Li was her Ravenclaw boyfriend Stephen Cornfoot.

The other students were spaced out so that nowhere in the room were there three empty windows together. Next to Hermione Granger was absolutely no one directly on either side.

"Draco?" Indigo said uncertainly.

"Guess I'm late," Draco said lightly, trying hard not to sound too triumphant.

Crabbe and Goyle looked up. "Hey, Zabini that's Draco's seat, get up," Goyle commanded.

Zabini shrugged, looking only blandly amused by this game of musical chairs he had been swept into, and began to stand. "Oh, don't make him get up," Draco said. He put his hand on Zabini's shoulder in what was supposed to look like a friendly gesture and physically intended to keep him firmly in his seat. "He got here first, only fair."

"We'll move then," Crabbe said, but looked about to find, as Draco already knew, there was no three person gap.

"We could get everyone to move down one," Indigo suggested.

"That's way too much trouble," Draco said. "I'll just grab an empty seat." He walked off before they could debate any further, ignoring their confused faces. Casually he crossed the room and dropped his bag at the window next to Granger's. She was already playing with her telescope and jotting things in her notebook. She glanced his way with mild interest to see who was taking the seat and did a double take, to which he was very careful not to react. Draco was careful not to glance at her at all, as he sat down cross-legged and began adjusting his telescope.

"What are you doing?" she hissed at him.

"Sitting," he said, sparing her only a short glance.

"Here?"

"I like this side," he replied without looking at her at all. There was something absolutely mad about abandoning your best friends to spend the semester sitting by a girl who could not stand you, but it was a madness he found exhilarating. He felt his pulse quicken just a bit, anxious for Professor Sinistra to enter and make the seating final, hoping Hermione's pride would keep her from moving. He was sitting by Hermione, something he had not done since he started at Hogwarts. That in itself was rather intoxicating. Now if only he talk to her without giving himself away.

Hermione was uncertain whether glaring or pointedly ignoring him was the best approach and shifted between the two options. "I'm not moving," she said firmly after a few seconds.

"Fine," Draco said. "Neither am I." He let the silence hang for a very long minute. He looked at her surreptitiously, being careful not to turn his head too much. He did not want to advertise the fact he was talking to Hermione in case Crabbe and Goyle were watching.

Her face betrayed nothing, but with her hands retracted into her lap, she was gently rubbing her thumb over the bandage. He felt a small pang of guilt. He wondered if she was actually afraid of him, if he was hurting her more by inflicting his presence on her. "How's your hand?" he asked.

"It's fine," she said shortly.

Professor Sinistra entered at that point. Brandishing a stack of papers that looked suspiciously like a quiz. "I thought we'd see how much you remember," she said. "This won't be a major grade, but it will be a grade so do your best."

Draco glanced over his shoulder to see Crabbe and Goyle's forlorn expressions. Professor Sinistra swooped upon them first like a bird of prey picking out the weakest members of the flock. She would continue clockwise, checking everyone's seat for the year, so Draco had a moment before she reached him.

"It was an accident," he told Hermione again in a low voice.

"I heard you," she murmured back irritably.

Persephone had been right about something. He almost smiled, but he was trying very hard to look sincere and worried a smile might ruin it. "But do you believe me?"

"Well, you didn't get detention, did you?" She spared him a pointed glance, and he relaxed.

"I am sorry," he added quickly.

"Shh!" she hissed.

Professor Sinistra handed Draco his quiz paper, and he gave her one of his most charming smiles. She returned his smile with one that said she thought he was up to something that was probably harmless but would be watching anyway.

o

* * *

o

The Malfoy mansion had few portraits, hung only in the more public rooms, though there were a few in guest bedrooms for guests who might require an extra eye upon them. Hogwarts by contrast was brimming with them. Draco was not satisfied that Isabelle's knowledge of them was as extensive as it could be. When he had a private moment, he tried the same questions with a few other portraits, hoping to get more enlightening answers from some of the stodgy wizards and witches. For the most part his efforts were fruitless, he learned a little more about the daily lives of the portraits themselves (which were frightfully dull in his opinion) but found no indication of any similarly trapped witches and wizards.

He knew finding a trapped wizard was unlikely. He was not sure exactly what he would do if he did find one, but the urge to look was overwhelming.

His overall mood had improved greatly. Crabbe and Goyle were giving him the benefit of the doubt, convinced he was playing a very elaborate joke on Granger. He remained noncommittal when they confronted him with questions and let them think what they wanted. He got no letters the following morning, which was something of a relief. Persephone got another package, this one filled with socks, and he found it, and more specifically Pansy's baffled reaction to it, nearly as hysterical as Persephone did.

He had Ancient Runes with Hermione too, but there was no chance of manufacturing even an implausible excuse to sit by her. It was all for the best, when he thought about it. Ancient Runes was a far more demanding subject than Astronomy, and Professor Noachian was even less forgiving about private conversations during his class than Professor Snape. Besides translating hardly held the romance of stargazing.

Friday's lunch marked the end of a full week of classes, and having survived them all, Draco was beginning to feel a sense of normality return to his world. His friends were getting used to Persephone. They may not have understood Draco's attachment to her, but they were accepting it. Goyle had been the one to sacrifice his spot next to Draco at the lunch table. Draco was not sure if it had been a verbal or silent agreement between the two of them, but since Goyle was the one with a girlfriend to sit beside, it seemed fair. Crabbe sat between them so the trio was shifted rather than broken. Pansy very clearly established her place as directly across from wherever Draco was sitting. Daphne on her left, Indigo on her right, Alice fitting in where she could. Unfortunately, the significance of seating arrangements was lost on Persephone, who spent Friday's lunch sitting with the sixth year students.

But, any normalcy was strictly illusion. The empty seat on Draco's left reminded him of the other students who were missing. He had never spent a lot of time with Addy Flint, but he missed her sharply. Mostly he worried what her absence signified. He knew Addy's father was a Death Eater, and he strongly suspected that her brother Marcus had joined their ranks. He knew Addy well enough to know she would not have wanted to leave Hogwarts voluntarily and knew her father well enough to know he would not have acted to displease her without some reason. Pansy was completely right about her being a daddy's girl. Was her absence because Addy had joined Voldemort? Draco could not picture Addy with her butterfly clips and pink lip gloss wearing hooded cloaks and killing librarians. Addy had gotten sick slicing open earthworms for Potions. He could not picture her father letting her get close enough to see what he had seen. He worried about her but worried more that her absence signified that Hogwarts was a dangerous place to be, more dangerous than when the Chamber of Secrets had been open, or Sirius Black had come, bringing the dementors. Perhaps the feeling of safety he had built in the castle was an illusion.

Normally, while he might not reveal his anxiety, he would have at least discussed the situation with his friends. He might have called it exciting or interesting to hide his fear, but he would still have been able to use them as a sounding board. He wanted to think he could trust Crabbe and Goyle at least. The three of them had been fast friends since they were five, but they had been out of touch during his lost summer. He felt he had changed a good bit in that brief period. It was possible they had changed just as much, only in the other direction.

Theodore Nott was the nephew of a Death Eater. His father worked at the Ministry of Magic. Since Potter had only had been able to give the Ministry investigators last names, Nott's father had faced an inquiry that had caused no end of strife with his family. Theodore still avoided speaking about it, and though ultimately Nott's father had retained his Ministry position, Draco was not sure where he or Theodore placed their loyalties.

Zabini remained as much an enigma as he had ever been. Draco had shared a room with him for six years but still knew more about his father than he knew about Blaise. His father's name was Alekos, and he made furniture, a master craftsman, who besides making nice looking chairs often endowed them with a variety of magical properties. He was a widower with one son, Blaise, and one daughter who was six years older than Blaise and had gotten married a couple of years back. Draco could not remember to whom.

The only thing Draco knew about Blaise for certain was that he liked to read. Perhaps as a result of the books permanently fixed in his hands, Blaise gave off an aura of intelligence, but Draco had discovered his grades were fair at best. The books he carried were never schoolbooks. Draco had made a few attempts to include him into the fold during his first year but given up as Blaise proved nonresponsive. Blaise would sit down when asked, but if not asked, he would find some quiet corner. He was nearly always the last one to return to the dorm at night and never made much noise when he came up. He was never unpleasant, just absent. Draco forgot he was there most of the time.

Now, it disturbed him to look up and realize how often Blaise was there, sitting quietly in the background. He was grateful for his compliance in the Astronomy Tower but wondered why Blaise had been so compliant. He decided to seek him out that afternoon and make another attempt to draw him into a conversation.

He eventually found him in the common room and dragged him out of a windowsill to sit at one of the tables. Zabini looked mildly surprised by Draco's sudden interest in him but followed with the same easy compliance he had the night before. "What's up?" Zabini asked, politely laying his book aside to give Draco his full attention.

"Well, it's our last year," Draco said, managing not to sound as awkward as he felt. "And as a prefect, I'm supposed to keep my eye on the other students, help them out, but I realized even though we've shared a room for a while now, I don't really know you that well."

"You want to get to know me?" Zabini said, looking bemused.

Draco shrugged. "Well, enough to be a good prefect anyway. What classes are you taking?"

"Astronomy, Ancient Runes, Care of Magical Creatures, Herbology, and Defense Against the Dark Arts."

Draco blinked. "You're in Defense Against the Dark Arts?"

Zabini laughed, which Draco had very rarely heard him do. "You might want to look behind you every now and then."

Draco tensed but forced himself to relax. _Zabini simply means that he sits towards the back of the classroom, while you're a front row student. _Or _he's making snide social commentary, but it's not a threat. Probably._

"So-uh, what do you think of Dumbledore?"

"Improvement over last year's teacher," Zabini said with a shrug and a half-smile. "But then, well…you know."

In all honesty, Draco did not know, having completely missed the previous Dark Arts Professor's teaching style, but since they were long gone, Draco did not see a point to inquiring further. "Are you curious about why I asked you to do me that favor?"

"Extremely," Blaise said. "But I figured if I waited the answer would unveil itself."

"I like being mysterious," said Draco.

"All mysteries unravel with time," Blaise said blithely. "That's what I like about them."

Out of the corner of his eye, Draco spotted Indigo's bright bob. So did Zabini, and his expression shifted. "Hey, Stump," he said gently.

Indigo paused and nervously redirected herself towards their table.

"Did you lose some weight this summer?" Zabini asked. "You look a bit thin."

With the first sentence, Indigo had blushed as though expecting a compliment, but Zabini's tone on the last word hardly sounded complimentary. "Thin?" she repeated squeakily.

She looked at Draco beseechingly, and he studied her. Her school robes hid most of her figure, but her wrists stuck out of her sleeves. He could make out the shape of the bone beneath her skin. He was not rude enough to tell her she had bony wrists. "Yeah, a bit. I hadn't noticed, with the new hair."

"You hate it, don't you?"

Draco was taken aback by her sudden volume and the melodramatic despair in her eyes. "What?"

"My hair," she cried. "You hate it! You think it looks stupid!"

"No, not stupid," Draco back-pedaled awkwardly. "Just different."

"I wonder why you changed it," Zabini said. "It was very nice before."

"Before?" Indigo squeaked. "But not now?"

"It's not bad now," Draco said. "It's just…"

"Unnatural," Zabini supplied.

"Yes, unnatural," Draco agreed. Indigo let out a sort of distressed wail and raced up the stairs of the girl's dorm.

"Really, Draco!" Daphne scolded him from the nearby couch. She gave him a half-disappointed, half-furious glare, and made a slamming gesture with her hands for emphasis before hurrying up the stairs after Indigo.

Draco looked helplessly at Zabini who looked just as lost as he did. "Bit high strung isn't she?" said Zabini.

"Well, girls can be sensitive about their hair," Persephone said, placing her hand on the table, and staring up the stairs. Draco had to remind himself that people could not Apparate on the Hogwarts grounds, because he was quite sure she had not been in the common room five minutes ago.

"Where have you been?" he asked her.

"Oh, I stayed after Potions to ask Professor Snape something," she answered still watching the stairs.

"Your Potions class ended three hours ago," he pointed out.

"Well, it was a complicated question…I better go see about her." And with that, she raced up the stairs.

It surprised Draco that Indigo had yelled at him, but he could not get too upset over it. Zabini was right about her being high strung. For the moment, Zabini seemed to be a sympathetic spirit, so Draco talked him into doing homework at the same table. After a while, Persephone came back down to join them.

"What are you doing?"

"Homework."

"Oh, right! Homework." She ran back upstairs to the girls dorm and returned with a some schoolbooks. The three of them work in silence for a while.

"Can I join you?" a young, proper voice belonging to Charles Bulstrode asked. They gestured him towards an empty seat. Charles worked with them quietly for at least a half-hour, before Crabbe and Goyle showed up.

"Please tell me you're working on Charms," Crabbe said as he settled into one of the remaining chairs. They all shifted their book piles so an equally hopeful looking Goyle could fit his on the table.

"No, Dark Arts," said Draco.

"It's so much harder this year!" a distressed voice came from behind him. Draco twisted in his seat to see two second year boys at the table behind him. "Yeah, it's awful," the second boy agreed.

"Let me see what you covering," Draco said, holding out his hand for their textbook. The first boy showed him. "Oh my—we didn't cover any of this until third year."

Blaise turned the text so he could examine it. "We didn't really cover much of anything until third year," he said.

"That's true," Draco admitted. "But still, this is a little advanced for the first of the year isn't it. He's starting them out on boggarts, Pogrebin, and dementors."

"Do you want some help?" Persephone asked brightly.

"Yes! Please!"

Persephone closed up her own text and relocated to the boys' table. Charles pushed back from the table and picked up his stack as well. "I might need some help on D.A. as well."

"D.A.?" Draco repeated.

"The Defense class. Dark Arts," Charles explained.

"Don't call it the D.A.," Draco said.

"Oh, okay, but I thought I heard some of the older students call it that…" He trailed off as Draco gave him a hard stare. Charles quickly moved to Persephone's table. Draco tried to go back to reading his text but did not take in any of the words. _That was interesting. His father would certainly like to know that the D.A. was still active._

"Not that I'll tell him," Draco muttered.

_You might want to look behind you every now and then._

Draco glanced over each of his shoulders. For the most part, the common room was quiet. Many of the students were celebrating the end of the class week and their time before curfew outside. Only a small spattering was sitting at the common room worktables. Victoria Dey and what must have been her brother had a table to themselves.

They were beautiful children, fine boned with the largest eyes and darkest, smoothest skin Draco had ever seen. He could understand why no one was sitting with them. Victoria Dey exuded an aura of darkness that had nothing to do with her skin tone. Draco had never seen her smile or give any other sign of expression. Her brother seemed to be cut from the same mold, though he did not give off the same unapproachable power. He glanced at the other boys. Though his expression did not change, Draco was sure that he was contemplating joining them.

"Thomas," his sister said in a voice, which seemed uncommonly deep for a small thirteen-year-old girl and managed to convey a sharp rebuke without inflection. Thomas obediently snapped his head back around to his textbook.

"Hey, Sally," one of the second year boys called out.

"Hallo," a second year girl said. She and her two friends approached the table. "We've been in the library," she said in the same forlorn tone, the boys had had earlier. "Are you working on Dark Arts?"

"Yeh, she's helping us." He indicated Persephone. "She's a sixth year, knows loads."

"Well, I had a good teacher at my old school," Persephone said modestly. "Do you want to join us?"

The second year girls nearly fell over themselves scrambling for chairs.

By the time dinner approached, Draco had finished his Dark Arts reading and guided Crabbe and Goyle through their Charms dilemma. The tension at the table behind him had faded, and occasional bursts of laughter were cropping up. Victoria Dey slammed her textbook shut, and everyone took that as a signal to pack up and head to the Great Hall.

Indigo did not come to dinner, and Daphne was not speaking to him. But in a way, that made things more peaceful.

o

* * *

o

_There was blood. A thousand cuts. Screaming._

Draco sat bolt upright in bed. His mouth was open in a soundless scream. Cold sweat clung to his face. He wiped it off.

Rain beat heavily against the windows. The illusion of contentment the last few days had given was washed away and showed the unforgiving reality underneath. The images of the dream played over again in his head. It was the scene of Evra Tome's murder all over again, only he was standing directly in front her, and she was staring into his eyes when the cuts opened and blood poured out, and then Evra was Hermione, and then Hermione was dead, lying on the ground, and then Evra Tome had come up before him, her face mangled with the cuts and grabbed his shoulders, her eyes bore into his with accusation or warning or…it hardly mattered. It was a dream, but one that quite understandably upset him. He felt the tears well up in his eyes.

_I can't cry here_, he thought. _Not here. They'll hear me. _Still, he knew he was going to cry. The tears were already threatening to overflow his eyes lids. Some part of his brain knew that it was healthy to cry. He had seen something terrible, life altering, horrific. Parts of himself were lost. Evra Tome was dead, and these things were things that should be mourned. But not here, not in this dorm where the other boys might hear. There was no shame in private tears, but he could not stand to explain his tears to the others, nor was he in a state to concoct elegant lies.

He slipped out of bed as silently as he could and made his way out in the darkness. He had no idea of the exact hour, but it was late enough the common room should be empty. He was trembling. He tried to take consolation in the fact no one could see him, but he felt hopelessly lonely.

There was a low fire, barely more than embers. He would have sunk into the chair directly in front of it, but someone was already there, so he slipped into another slightly to the side.

Persephone was staring into the fire. Thomas Dey was curled on her lap, his head on her shoulder, sleeping, and she held him like a very large baby.

"Why are you up?" Draco asked in a voice just above a whisper.

"You're not the only one who has nightmares," she said, her eyes on Thomas. Draco could only see the boy's back. He knew it was Dey from the size and the coloring. Draco could remember being very small and curling into his mother's arms, and this opened a fresh ache in him. It was so childish to miss his mother.

"He's eleven years old, for Pete's sake," Draco said, lacing his tone with disgust. It was unfair, he knew, because he was he would have liked to be where Thomas was. Obviously, he was too big to sit in Persephone's lap, if Thomas was not such a small eleven year old he could not have managed it, but it would be nice to lay his head there and feel arms soothing him.

"He's had it rough," Persephone said, still watching the fire. She looked very sad and serious, very adult. Draco sat still, willing his heart rate to return to normal. Perfunctorily he ran his hand through his hair to give it some order. "Look at this," she said and gingerly pulled up the edge of Thomas's pajama top to expose his back. The dark skin was crossed with lighter colored stripes, slightly raised. Draco was not sure what they were, but they made him even more uncomfortable.

"Those are cane marks," she told him. Her expression was very distant, and Draco did not want to ask her how she knew. "There are some on his legs too." She put Thomas's shirt back down. She looked back at the fire, and for a moment Draco thought she was going to start crying, but she blinked back her tears. "Makes your problems not seem so bad by comparison. My Papa was always so good to me."

Draco had been spanked on occasion when he was younger, but his father had never struck him with enough fury to leave marks like that. He wondered if his father would really kill him if Voldemort ordered it or would he just stand by and watch him die.

Persephone was looking at him, and Draco realized with some horror that she was expecting him to know something. "What should we do?"

"I don't know," Draco said.

"But you're a prefect," she said. Draco wondered if she had looked the same way and said the same words to his father, and he wondered if it had made his father feel as completely helpless and equally determined not to show it.

"I mean it's too late to do anything tonight," he amended. "It's best to just let him sleep now." _I don't know what to do. Stop looking at me like that. I don't know what to do._

"Okay," she said. She tried to shift Thomas. "Could you take him up to bed?"

Draco felt a little strange gathering Thomas up. He seemed smaller in Draco's arms than he had in Persephone's. Persephone stroked Thomas's hair lovingly. For a moment, Draco felt like they were playing at being mother and father. Her eyes turned to his face, mingled faith and concern. "Are you okay?" she asked.

He nodded. It seemed wrong somehow to show his weakness when he was holding someone so small, and she was depending on him.

"You go to bed too," he told her. Persephone did not argue with him.

They climbed their separate staircases. Draco murmured "_Lumos_", and his wand, muted by his pocket, gave off enough light for him to see the way into the first years dorm room and find the empty bed. He laid Thomas down and covered him with the blankets. Thomas rolled onto his side without waking and looked very peaceful. Draco returned to his own room. He fell asleep without crying.


	7. The DA Meets

**Disclaimer:** This story is based on the Harry Potter novels written by J.K. Rowling. All characters created by J.K. Rowling are owned by J.K. Rowling. The few characters created by me (i.e. Persephone, Hotchet, Kagome…) belong to me, but are available for use in other fics as long as I get credited as their creator. None of us are making any money off this and no infringement is intended.

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**Level 1.3: The D.A. Meets**

Harry set the first meeting for the second Saturday after the start of term.

Though they did not have to worry about secrecy quite as much as they did in the days of Umbridge, Harry, Ron, and Hermione still thought it was a good idea to keep the continued D.A. meetings as quiet as possible. Hermione had said it gave the faculty "Plausible Deniability", if the group's activities were ever brought into question. Harry and Ron just liked having a minimum amount of interference from the teaching staff.

Hermione still had her stock of fake Galleons. Graduating members of the D.A. had turned their coins back in as they left Hogwarts. Several of them had gone on to join the Order of the Pheonix. They would recycle the coins by giving them to new members. It was not quite as suspicious for them to openly converse with members of the other two Houses as it had once been, but the Protean Charm on the coins was far more convenient than word of mouth. Still Harry, Ron, and Hermione each notified a few of the other key members in the D.A. verbally, since this would be the first meeting of the year, and they wanted to make sure everyone was present.

Harry felt like forming the D.A. was one of the most important things he had done in the fight against Voldemort. He certainly had fewer regrets about it than any of his other more direct actions against the Dark Lord. The skills he had taught the other students had proven themselves against Voldemort's forces. He was a little baffled as to how he would conduct meetings during his last year. Since Dumbledore had taken over the teaching of Defense Against the Dark Arts, Harry did not feel like he would need to teach a substitute Dark Arts class. However he felt it was important to maintain the D.A. as long as Voldemort cast his shadow over their world. This meant reinventing the function of the D.A. to some level, though he had no clue how to go about this.

He was willing to entertain suggestions.

The Room of Requirement was filled with cushions and seemed to have grown a little bit since the D.A. had first started using it, which was exactly what they needed. As expected, several of the members brought other students who they thought were good prospects, and the D.A. was more than double the size than when it had started. Mostly older students, there was a healthy representation from every House save Slytherin. Hermione had said more than once last year that she thought they really ought to find a Slytherin or two, but she had never managed to come up with any reliable prospects.

Harry gave the students a full twenty minutes to wander in before he tried to call order to start the meeting. He tried waving his arms, which got a few people's attention, but several patches kept talking until Hermione blew the whistle.

"Listen up, now!" Ron shouted, then turned deferentially to Harry.

Harry stood, facing the nearly fifty students. "I'm glad to see so many people here," he said, which may have been a slight exaggeration. He liked the support but dreaded managing the numbers. "We started the D.A. two years ago to learn to protect ourselves against Voldemort," Several of the new students flinched. "and because our Dark Arts teacher at the time was absolutely incompetent." There was some laughter, particularly from the older students. "I still think we should concern ourselves with defense, but I believe Dumbledore is a completely competent Defense Against the Dark Arts instructor. And seeing as how this is my N.E.W.T. year I doubt I'll have time to act as a secondary Dark Arts instructor like I have in the past."

A few students groaned as they realized what he was saying. Harry was flattered that his lessons might be missed but determined to wean the students off his leadership. Despite the groans, he could see that most of the members had already come to the same conclusions he had. "I want us to use this first meeting to discuss how we should continue the D.A." He had intended to stop there and open the floor for discussion but inspiration struck. The half formed ideas in his head became clear, and he had a rough but firm idea of how he wanted the D.A. to operate. "I believe we should continue to assist one another in learning Defense Against the Dark Arts, but we should address problems individuals might be having with their lessons instead of creating an entirely new set of lessons. Form small study groups and sort of play that part by ear. This we should be free to do openly around the castle. I want the scheduled meetings to be more of an information gathering system. I realize we are limited to some degree while we are at Hogwarts, but we are also in a unique position. And I think the more we understand what's going on, the better we will be able to face it when we leave Hogwarts."

After that, he did open the floor up for suggestions. Hermione not surprisingly had quite a few, but she was not the only one with ideas. There seemed to be more questions and complaints, however, and after some very long discussion, they all seemed to come back to where Harry had started.

"Okay," Harry said, once again waving his arms for attention. This time it was more effective. "I want to try out this information network. I want it very clear that this is not a place for gossip or rumors, but actual first hand information." He glanced at Hermione who was trying very hard to resist prompting him, but he felt he could read her mind anyway. "Draco Malfoy. Does anyone know why he missed the train?"

At least ten people began speaking at once. Harry raised his arms to quiet them. "One at a time." Despite what Harry had said, most of the students just repeated rumors and stories they had heard. A handful of students had more useful clues.

Collin Creevey admitted to being the 'unnamed Hogwarts student' from _The Quibbler_. "They misquoted me. I said if he had Muggle sympathies, it made sense that he would hide them, considering what his father is, but he was so over the top with his anti-Muggle slurs it would surprise me."

"Mr. Mulligan said he came through the shop in Newbury," Dennis added eagerly. "Well, some one fitting his description did. He claimed he wasn't Draco Malfoy, but Mr. Mulligan thought he was lying."

"And I told you about the letter," Parvati added. "The Malfoys are a pretty tight knit clan. It's very strange that Draco would run off without telling his mother."

"Particularly to Newbury," Lavender Brown said. "There's nothing in Newbury."

"'cept us!" Collin said brightly.

"There's a currency exchange in Newbury," Anthony Goldstein added. "If he needed Muggle money for some reason…" He had obviously read _The Quibbler_ but looked unwilling to admit that he believed any of it. It surprised Harry as well that the article might be based on some degree of fact, but it did better explain why it put Malfoy so easily on edge.

"We know the reason," Luna spoke up, as though they were all missing something incredibly obvious. "He's got a Muggle girlfriend." Some people snickered. The rest looked uncertain. Harry caught sight of Hermione absently rubbing her healed hand.

He rubbed his temples. "We're not certain of that. Even the best papers can be misleading." _The Quibbler_ certainly was not one of the best papers, but he did not wish to alienate Luna by pointing that out. "All we know for certain is that some shop keeper-"

"Mr. Mulligan!"

"-Mr. Mulligan, thinks he saw Draco Malfoy in Newbury."

"And he had a girl with him," said Collin significantly. "Not a Muggle though. A silver haired girl in school robes."

"Persephone?" said Hermione.

"He didn't catch her name," Collin said. "But how many silver haired girls are walking around in Hogwarts robes?"

Harry had to admit he had a point. He knew nothing about Mr. Mulligan, but it seemed like an unusual detail for someone to make up.

"She's dating Malfoy," said Zacharias Smith.

"She is not," Ginny rebuffed. "I asked her."

"Well, she hangs around him a lot," Smith insisted.

"She gets letters from some fellow named Oliver," said Annie Howard, a Hufflepuff sixth year. Harry gave her an exasperated glare; this was the sort of gossip he was trying to avoid. Annie read his expression. "It's not gossip. She showed me one."

"Okay," said Harry, still not sure that did not count as gossip.

"Let's suppose there's some connection between Malfoy and Persephone," said Hermione in her professor-esque tone. "What do we know about her anyway?"

There was a clamor of voices again, mostly from the sixth year students. Many of whom had the same assessment of her that Ginny had, that she was a nice girl but on second thought slightly odd.

"She's not like a Slytherin at all."

"She's really friendly, even to us Muggle-borns."

"The teachers all seem to know her."

"Even the ghosts, they escort her to classes," said Jo Croaker.

"I saw the Bloody Baron talking to her," Andrew Kirke added in a hushed tone. "Actually talking. I've never seen him talk before."

P. had managed to talk to a lot of people considering she had only been at school two weeks. Harry admitted the bit with the ghosts in particular was strange, but he thought it would be stranger to be suspicious of someone for being friendly.

"Did anyone here know her before she came to Hogwarts?" asked Harry. Everyone shook their heads. "Does anyone know her last name? It can't be P. What school did she transfer from?"

"Chesann Blampied told me she's from Canada."

"Chesann's in Slytherin right?"

"If she's from Canada, I'm a _Blibbering Humdinger," Mandy Brocklehurst, a seventh year Ravenclaw, said haughtily._

_"__Why do you say that?" asked Harry._

_"__I've got friends who go to _Shenk Saundustee Academy. That's the Canadian wizarding school, and her accent's completely off. She sounds British."

"If she's British, it seems strange that none of us have run into her before," Hermione said.

"Maybe she grew up in Britain and then moved away for school," Ron suggested. Harry thought that made some sense, and even Mandy admitted it was plausible.

"Could you write to your friends in Canada?" Harry said to settle the matter. "They should be able to confirm whether or not she attended there." Mandy agreed, pleased to have a mission. Some of the other students looked eager for similar assignments. "I don't want anyone harassing her. There's a fair chance she's perfectly harmless, and it's hard enough starting a new school without people badgering you. At the same time, it bothers me that we don't know anything about her. For the moment, just keep your eyes open." Harry thought it was rather fun telling some one else that for a change and had to fight to keep a serious expression.

"I'm more concerned about Malfoy, who has already proven himself to be something of a threat," he continued. Padma Patil gave him a knowing smile as though it had been her warning that gave him this insight into Malfoy's character. He paused and flicked his gaze between the two Patil twins. "Hang on. Why would Mrs. Malfoy send the two of you a letter?"

"Not us," Parvati clarified. "Our mother."

"The Patils are very old wizarding family. I wouldn't say we're close to the Malfoys, but we are purebloods." Padma said the last word with exaggerated blandness to show she did not find this particularly important herself. "Our mum runs in some of the same circles as Narcissa Malfoy. I doubt we were the first people she contacted, but that's why I think she was in a bit of a panic. The Malfoys never flaunt family problems if they can avoid it, but she sent out loads of letters looking for him."

If that was true, Harry saw two possibilities. Either this was more than just a family problem or Narcissa was going out of her way to make people think she did not know what Draco was up to. "How many other people got letters?"

About a dozen hands shot up, more than Harry had been expecting. Neither Ron, Neville, nor Luna raised their hands, so Narcissa was still restricting her search to pureblood families she must have considered in good standing, but it bothered him that so many members of the D.A. had managed to keep in good standing with the Malfoys. Ernie Macmillan held his hand at a guilty sort of half-mast. "I'm a little surprised you got one," Harry said, hoping he would shed better light on the social dynamics of the wizarding world. It was something Harry was still quite in the dark about and would probably be happy to stay in dark about if it did not keep cropping up in nasty little ways.

"I was surprised too," Ernie said, looking eager to defend himself. "I mean I stopped socializing with the Malfoys years ago. Not that my family ever socialized with them that much. I just went to a few of Draco's birthday parties."

"Birthday parties?" Harry repeated.

"The Malfoys throw a large birthday party for Draco's birthday each year," said Parvati. "It was sort of the social event of the year for wizards our age…well, pureblood wizards our age."

Harry was honestly surprised by this information. "You mean you went to Draco Malfoy's birthday parties?"

"Well, they're very nice parties," a sixth year Ravenclaw girl said in a small voice.

"They've been going on since we were very little," Hannah Abbot said. "It's not like we were asked if we wanted to go, our parents just took us." She saw Harry's stunned expression and continued. "Most everyone believed Lucius Malfoy when he said You-Know-Who had him under the Imperius Curse. I mean Mr. Malfoy worked at the ministry and supported a lot of charities and stuff. He just didn't come across as Death Eater."

"And well, you know, he's rich," Hermione added snidely. "People will overlook anything if you shove enough gold under their nose."

"Not everything is about money," Parvati shot back acidly, as though Hermione had been personally insulting her family. "Malfoy was hardly the only Death Eater acquitted. Narcissa, Draco's mother, had never even been linked to You-Know-Who, and she's really a very charming hostess. There was never anything political about the parties."

"Except maybe the guest list," Padma admitted. "But no one really knows who the Muggle-born wizards are before they get their Hogwarts letters, and they started having parties for Draco when he turned one, shortly after You-Know-Who disappeared. It's not like the Malfoys could have invited any Muggle-borns if they wanted to, and there were so many people, no one really noticed a lot half-bloods had been left off the list. They were rather skilled at not offending anyone to begin with, and they always had some plausible excuse for dropping someone from the party invitations. The wizards they were probably most at odds with might get an invitation, but they wouldn't come anyway."

Ernie Macmillan nodded. "I used to get invited to Malfoy Manor quite a bit when I was younger. Invitations faded off when I got placed in Hufflepuff. I didn't mind though. Draco wasn't such a laddish bugger when he was eight, but he's far from improved with age."

"Cho Chang and her brother used to come every year," Hannah said. "Didn't she tell you?" Harry shook his head. He felt as though she had slapped him.

"Well, the Chang's are a very old wizarding family, of course they'd be invited," Parvati said. "But she probably didn't think it was worth mentioning. Most all of the purebloods near our age have been to at least one party, and since Draco is on a Quidditch team, they expand the age range for anyone else playing."

Harry still felt like he had been slapped. He glanced at Ron, but Ron was incredibly interested in his left shoe.

"I didn't really think about it until I joined the D.A.," Padma continued. "And Lucius Malfoy got convicted as a Death Eater. I heard Draco's party was a lot smaller that summer."

"We were out of the country," Parvati picked up the story. "So we couldn't have gone anyway, but we had planned to try to go this last summer. We thought it might be a good chance to snoop around the Malfoy Manor, but he didn't have a party this year at all. From what I heard, the Malfoys hardly saw anyone all summer."

"He's been acting rather funny since he got back," Hermione prompted.

"Yeah," Michael Corner spoke up. "Really quiet. But well, honestly, I think he's gone a little balmy…I swear he talks to the portraits when he thinks no one's looking."

"Well, at least they're the kind that talk back," Ginny said, inspiring some giggles.

Harry decided it was time to turn the conversation away from Malfoy. He felt he had quite enough to digest. He gave the students similar instructions to what he had given about Persephone. He tried to turn the conversation to other unusual tidbits anyone may have picked up over the summer, but there did not seem to be much for the other students to report in this area.

The preceding year had been filled with mysterious deaths and disappearances, which had culminated with an Order of the Phoenix raid on the Riddle mansion where Voldemort had been headquartered. Since then, it was only three months ago, Voldemort's forces had been unusually quiet. The only disappearance was that of a middle-aged librarian from Amesbury, and Harry had not been able to figure out her significance. Some of the students had known her, but other than saying she was a nice, harmless sort of woman, none of them were able give any insight as to why Voldemort or his Death Eaters would have singled her out.

Zacharias Smith pointed out that they were not a hundred percent sure her disappearance was caused by Voldemort. "You-Know-Who isn't the only evil in the world," he reminded them darkly. Harry had to agree, but Voldemort was the only evil that prophecy expected him to face.

Harry decided it was time to start wrapping up the meeting. He turned the topic to more immediate, small-scale concerns like when they should have their next meeting and handing out fake Galleons to the new members. He started dismissing the students in small groups. When they got the idea, he settled down onto the cushion between Ron and Hermione.

"I can't believe it," Harry muttered. He felt emotionally exhausted. Logically he knew there was nothing he had learned that should surprise him. The Malfoy's could not have shown everyone in the wizarding community the outright disdain they showed him and the Weasleys and kept the sort of influence they seemed to enjoy. Still, this was messing with the neat little lines he had drawn for himself between his social circle and Draco's.

"Cho really never mentioned it?" Hermione said. She must have picked up some mind reading talent herself. "I'm sure she just didn't want to upset you, but really, she should have said something."

He was upset, and Cho was probably perfectly right that he would have been upset. But, he wished that people would not worry so much about not upsetting him. He was not that delicate or that dangerous. Perhaps Cho like Dumbledore assumed he was too young for certain information, but this thought only made him more irritable.

"Did you know?" he asked Hermione.

Hermione shook her head. "It's not the sort of thing they put in books, Parvati and the other Gryffindor girls hardly talked to me before fifth year. It's the sort of gossip I wouldn't have bothered listening to anyway."

"I remember going to one of their Christmas parties when I was five," Luna said. She and Neville had lingered behind to speak with Harry. Past them, he saw that Ginny had taken over directing the students out. "That was before dad started the magazine. They really were nice parties, but I stayed with my mum and dad the whole time instead of playing with the other children. There were so many people I don't think I ever saw the Malfoys."

Hermione probably would have balked at the idea, but she and Luna had a lot in common. It struck Harry how lonely it must have been for Hermione in the girls dorm, and he felt Luna had made the happier choice to stay by her now deceased mother at the Christmas party. He could not say thinking about their past problems made him feel better, but it did calm him. Put in perspective, Cho's omission did not seem very important. Of course it was not just Cho's omission, Ron still was not meeting his eyes.

"My Gran hates the Malfoys. She never believed Lucius was innocent," said Neville. "She would've burned any invitations from them if we had got one."

"How 'bout you, Ron?" Harry prompted.

"Okay, I went to _one_. I was four, and I don't remember it," Ron huffed. He took on a pained look as though he could die from the shame. "Only reason I know is because Mum mentioned it while she was ranting about Mrs. Malfoy."

Harry smiled at him to let him know it was okay, and because he could imagine the colorful sort of ranting Mrs. Weasley would be able to do on the subject.

"I wonder if that's what she's been trying to tell you," Hermione said in a thoughtful tone.

"What?" Harry said, turning to her.

"P. She keeps trying to talk to you, right? Maybe she's trying to tell you about Malfoy," said Hermione. Harry nodded. He had been starting to think along the same lines.

"So she doesn't fancy you after all," said Ron.

"Oh, she does," said Luna airily.

"Why do you say that?"

"I have classes with her," Luna said. "She talks about you all the time in Arithmancy." Harry felt his stomach sink. "Wants to know everything about you. Worst case of Potter-fancy I've ever seen."

"Potter-fancy?"

"Well, that's the term they use for it," Neville said.

"I have my own term?" said Harry, not sure whether he should be amused or disturbed.

"What if it's not Potter-fancy?" said Hermione, frowning thoughtfully. Harry asked her what she meant, but Hermione just shook her head.

"Yeah," Ron said as though the same idea had just struck him. "What if she's a spy for You-Know-Who?"

"Voldemort," Harry corrected.

"Yeah," Ron said with some effort. "Voldemort." Neville's eye twitched just the slightest bit, but he was trying to be stalwart. Luna was humming an unfamiliar tune and staring at the walls.

"I don't think so," Harry said. "I mean if he wanted to spy on me. Why would he put her in Slytherin? And why choose someone so…well, someone who sticks out so much. Wouldn't it make more sense to Polyjuice someone from Gryffindor." He gave Ron and Neville a mock-suspicious glance. "Neither of you two have started drinking from a hip flask, have you?"

Hermione gave a small laugh. Ron smiled briefly but looked horrified at the prospect.

"Hey, you lot," Ginny said bossily, but with a grin. "You can go now."

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"Is there a test to see if someone's using Polyjuice?" Ron asked the next day at lunch. "I mean other than making sure they don't drink anything for an hour."

"Not that I'm aware of," Hermione said. "I guess if you knew the person, you could figure out."

"Okay, maybe, but anyone who went to all that trouble would do their research, wouldn't they?" said Ron. "You'd think someone would have invented a device to detect stuff like that."

"Like maybe a Sneakoscope," Hermione said casually.

Ron's face fell a bit, but he brightened pretty quickly. "Oh…yeah…Hey, Harry, you've got the one I gave you, right?"

Harry swallowed a large gulp of milk and nodded. "Why are you so hung up on Polyjuice?" he asked Ron.

"I'm just trying to explore all the possibilities," Ron said with his chin held a little higher than usual. "Either way, might not be a bad idea to take a pass by her with the Sneakoscope."

Harry did not have to ask Ron who he meant. He was watching Persephone across the Great Hall. She looked very happy, everything about her body language shouted happy, carefree, and young. It was an easiness that he had never encountered in anyone associated with Voldemort. The other Slytherins around her looked happy too, as though her mood was infectious, except for Draco. Harry could see why people were confused about whether or not they were dating. Persephone frequently put her hand on Draco's arm, but from what Harry had seen of her, she touched almost everyone who would let her. She had taken Hagrid's hand when he had approached a few days before. She had put her arm around Victoria Dey's shoulders, and Harry had trouble picturing Victoria Dey letting too many people touch her.

Ron and Hermione were having a lot of fun exploring all the possibilities, though they were trying to sound very serious about it. They came up with a long list of plots that Voldemort could be hatching involving Persephone. Harry let them play. He tried to watch the silver haired girl for any signs of unusual behavior, but his attention was drawn to Draco Malfoy instead. Draco occasionally gave Persephone an indulgent smile, but his smiles faded quickly. He seemed disengaged from the conversation around him. His shoulders hunched differently as though he was trying to make himself very small.

Harry found himself thinking about Draco's birthday parties, but they failed to inspire the same feelings of jealousy that Dudley's had used to breed in him. Harry was sure Draco's parties would have turned Dudley green with envy, but from the way the other students had described it, they had all gone to Draco's parties because they were 'nice' and 'a social occasion' not out of any interest in Draco. Harry knew his little party had not been much, but he knew all his guests had been there to see him. For the first time ever, he felt a little sorry for Draco. What was it like having a Death Eater as a father, parents who used your birthday as a political tool?

He caught sight of Thomas Dey sitting at the far end of the Slytherin table, expressionless as usual. His sister sat across from him radiating the same repressive air she had on the train. Harry flicked his eyes back to Persephone. A small group of third years had stopped to chat with her. She was exuding the same warmth to them, touching their hands lightly, with a familiarity most people could not get away with. "She's certainly popular," Harry said out loud.

Hermione and Ron paused in the middle of a theory that somehow involved hinkypunks and spellotape. "It's a little strange," Hermione said. "I mean not that I think there's anything wrong with her being popular, but I've talked to several people who are absolutely smitten with her. She hasn't been here that long." Luna slid quietly into the seat across from them with her usual air of having wandered in by accident and sat listening with her chin propped upon her hand.

"Maybe she's part Veela, like Fleur," Ron theorized. "Might explain the hair."

Hermione looked doubtful, and so did Harry.

"Well, she's not as pretty as Fleur," Ron admitted. "But maybe she's an eighth or a sixteenth veela."

Luna started singing softly, which was not that unusual, except that her song seemed pertinent to the conversation.

"Silver child with hair quite wild,

Radiant and splendid.

A clever girl, a charming girl,

A girl that's well befriended."

The three of them turned to her expectantly. She looked pleased to have their attention but determined to look half-distracted. "She's not a veela," Luna said to the sugar bowl further down the table.

"Of course, not," Hermione said. "Some of the students I was talking about were girls. A veela wouldn't affect them the same way."

"What is she then?" Ron asked.

Luna turned her pop-eyes to him. "She's a Silver Child."

"What's that?" Hermione asked.

"A witch born with silver hair and eyes," Luna said, though she addressed Harry rather than Hermione. "They're supposed to be clever and rather good at magic."

"So, it's like a metamorphmagus?" asked Harry.

"No, a metamorphmagus just happens," Luna explained. "A Silver Child is made, and there are some drawbacks. They can't use a lot of magic items properly either unless they're made of silver, and P. has a silver wand."

"A silver wand?" Hermione repeated incredulously. "But you can't make a wand out of metal."

Luna lifted her pale eyebrows. "Have you ever tried?" Hermione scowled but could not find a proper retort. Luna started humming the song again in the short silence that followed.

"How do you know so much about them?" Ron asked.

Luna's eyes became even rounder than usual. "Because I am one," she said loftily. They all stared at her uncertainly, and she continued in a less pretentious tone. "Well, I'm not a proper one. You know how my mother liked to experiment. She couldn't help tampering with the spell a little bit."

"What spell?"

"The one I just sang. It's a song-spell." Luna took on a superior sort of air as she explained. "It used to be a very popular song-spell. Mothers expecting little girls would sing it to try to give their daughters all the desirable qualities. Only they found if you sang it too often, it would actually turn the girl's hair and eyes silver."

"It can't be common," said Hermione. "I've never heard of it."

"It's not," Luna agreed. "The only Silver Child I ever heard of was born about forty years ago. The song-spell sort of fell out of favor after that. I don't see why though."

"And you're one of these Silver Child things?" Ron said doubtfully.

"Only partly," said Luna. "My eyes are silver. Haven't you noticed?" Harry had seen such a strange variety of eye colors in wizards that he had never thought much about Luna's. Ron was leaning in as though to get a better look at Luna's irises. "You like my eyes? Don't you, Ronald?" Luna said, causing Ron to snap back and take on a trapped look.

"Um, yeah, sure," he said, looking to the rest of them for help.

"Luna, why didn't you mention this earlier?" asked Harry.

"I only confirmed it this morning," said Luna. "I think Ron's right though. She _affects_ people. Mum showed me an article about the first one forty years ago. It mentioned that girl being quite popular too."

"Did it give the other one's name?" Hermione asked. Harry guessed she was anxious to do her own research. "Persephone might be her daughter or something."

"I think it did," Luna said. "But I can't remember it. It's been a long time since I looked at the article." Hermione looked disappointed. "Dad might be able to find it," Luna said. "I'll write him."

"Maybe it's not her all the teachers know," Ron said suddenly. "Maybe it's her mother. That would make more sense, wouldn't it?"

"Hagrid seemed to know her though," Harry said.

"Well, let's go see Hagrid," Hermione said brightly. "We'd been planning to anyway. We could ask him about it."

"That's a brilliant idea," Harry said, pushing away his empty plate and standing.

"Can I come?" Luna asked. Harry paused and exchanged looks with Ron and Hermione. He hated to tell Luna no, but at the same time, she did not share the same sort of relationship with Hagrid that they did. "It's all right," she said, managing not to sound disappointed and making them all feel even guiltier for not inviting her.

"Maybe next time," Ron told her.

"Sure, next time," Luna repeated and slid away from the Gryffindor table.

o

* * *

o

The guilt quickly dissipated as they left the castle and walked across the grounds to Hagrid's hut. They doubted Hagrid would have minded Luna coming, but they knew he would not feel as free to talk around her and Persephone was not the only thing they wanted to ask him about.

To their delight Hagrid was home, alone, and looked to be in fairly good health, though Harry believed he had a little more grey in his hair than when they had first met. Of course, Harry knew he had changed far more in the past six years than Hagrid had.

Hagrid invited the three of them inside for tea, and they stepped into the hut. "Have a seat, have a seat," he said. "I'd been hoping I'd have a chance to chat with you outside of class. Got any news?"

"No, not really," Harry said. He thought Hagrid gave him a dubious glance, but Hagrid turned his back to busy himself with the teapot. "How about you?"

"Been busy doin' this and that, but nuthin' worth mentioning. 'Cept perhaps that you don't want to be using the secret passage b'tween 'ere and Hogsmead no more."

"How come?" Ron asked, looking startled.

"Can't tell you that," Hagrid said with a glance over his shoulder. "But I'm gonna trust you ter take my advice for once that you don't want to go lookin' into it."

"You've booby-trapped it," said Hermione.

"I didn't say that," Hagrid said lightly as he sat down, but Harry was quite sure from that not-quite-a-wink he gave them that Hermione was right. He smiled warmly at them. "Hard to believe this'll be yer last year."

"I'm going to miss being able to visit you like this," Harry said earnestly.

"Nonsense," said Hagrid. "We can meet up in Hogsmeade about as often as you'd like. You'll be able to Apparate, and the staff doesn' have the same restrictions the students do about visitin' town. Can't imagine Dumbledore would object to you comin' onto the grounds either."

"Still, I have a feeling I'm going to be a bit busy after graduation," said Harry.

"Yeh," Hagrid said. His smile stayed in place, but his eyes showed that he understood Harry was not talking about his career plans. "Yeh, I s'pose you might be at that."

"How did Grawp do over the summer?" Ron asked, attempting to shift the mood.

"Good!" said Hagrid, brightening up. "Very good. I think he's really settled in. Don' have ter keep him tied up no more."

"Oh, that's good," Hermione said with a wince. She was still rather afraid of Hagrid's giant half-brother. Not without reason. Grawp stood a good sixteen feet and could rather easily crush any of them in one hand. The giant had warmed up to them over the course of the previous year, but even a friendly giant was hardly a gentle playmate.

"Do you think I could introduce Luna to him?" Ron asked. Despite his initial reservations, Ron had become Hagrid's willing partner in the attempt to civilize Grawp, and Harry was happy to leave him to it.

"I think he'd like that," Hagrid said. "It'd be good fer him to meet new people."

Harry remembered what had brought them to see Hagrid in the first place. "Speaking of new people, we wanted to talk to you about Persephone."

Hagrid clapped his large hands together eagerly as if this was what he had been wanting to talk about as well. His black eyes sparkled. "Isn't it wonderful, Harry?"

Harry had not been expecting this reaction and was a little taken aback. "Isn't what wonderful, Hagrid?"

"Having her here, at Hogwarts," Hagrid said fondly. "Darlin' girl, one of the kindest creatures you'll ever meet."

Harry exchanged glances with Ron and Hermione. "So you know her then?"

"Oh, yeh, I've known Persephone ever since she was a little thing," Hagrid said. His smile became wistful.

Harry tried not to look too eager. "Do you know what her real last name is then?"

"Well, er…blimey, Harry, do you mean you haven't talked to her yet?" Hagrid's smile had faded, and he looked uncertain.

"No, I haven't."

Concern touched Hagrid's features. "Seems strange that she hasn't tried to talk to you." He looked Harry over as though searching for the reason for this failure in communication and ignored the whistle from the teapot.

"Well, she has tried," Harry admitted. "We just keep getting interrupted. What is she trying to tell me, Hagrid?"

Hagrid shook his head. He stood, took the water off the heat, and poured them each a cup. "I don't think it's my place to tell you that. It ain't that I don't want ter," he added when he caught Harry's frown. "It's just that it's Persephone's business. I know she'd want ter be the one to tell you, and I don't think I got any right takin' that away from her."

"Could you give me a hint?" Harry tried.

Hagrid was resolute. "No doin'. Don't look so disappointed. Persephone'll clear it all up in a jiffy, if you'll just listen to her. Ain't that hard to listen is it?"

"Well, she does come off as a bit balmy," Ron said rather bluntly as Hagrid set the cup in front of them.

"Now, don't you go givin' her any trouble," Hagrid said reprovingly. "Poor bird's been through her share already. If she wants to talk to Harry alone, you two better let her." He gave Harry a quick wink that deflated rather than heartened him. For a moment he had imagined Persephone was trying to tell him something important.

"What connection does she have with Malfoy?" Hermione asked.

Hagrid looked startled. "What'der yer mean?"

"Well, she's been hanging around with him and his gang," Ron said.

"Oh, oh…well I suppose she would at that," Hagrid muttered. Harry gathered that he disapproved of P.'s choice of company. "I don't suppose…well, never mind." He took a gulp of tea. "So how were your summers?"

This topic took them through the next couple of hours. After recounting the attack at his birthday party and having it retold by Ron and Hermione and adding the bit about the Ripper's behavior at the trial which seemed to cure Hermione of any animagus aspirations as well and listening to how Ron had been trapped with Ginny all summer doing Quidditch drills and the row Hermione had gotten into with her parents and some more guarded discussion over who had been going in and out of Grimmauld Place and more remonstrations from Hagrid to not go meddling in Order affairs before they were full members which would be quite soon enough and got Harry pondering his post-Hogwarts future, he had quite forgotten about Malfoy and the silver haired Slytherin.

As they left Hagrid's to walk back up to the school, he was busy composing a long letter to Tonks in his head.

"It seems strange," Hermione said in a low voice. Harry did not have the faintest idea what she was talking about until she continued. "That Hagrid would want us to leave her alone with you."

"Cause she's obviously nervous about telling Harry how much she fancies him in front of us," said Ron. Harry shot Ron an annoyed look, and Hermione bit her lip.

"I don't think that's it," she said. "Hagrid wouldn't have been so secretive if it was something that simple, but if it's something more important, why wouldn't he tell us. Why does she need to tell you? It's just suspicious."

Harry and Ron both stopped in their tracks and stared at her incredulously. "You can't suspect Hagrid!"

"No, of course I don't," Hermione said quickly. "But Luna said she can _affect_ people…"

"Well, yeah, but Luna's a bit nutter, isn't she?" said Ron. "I mean she's always saying crazy stuff like that."

"If Luna's such a nutter, then why do you want take her to see Grawp?" Hermione bit back. "Besides it's not just what Luna said, I've watched people act strangely about her, and you did say you saw her talking to Hagrid before. What if she got to him somehow….what if she has some sort of special abilities to affect minds or something? I know Hagrid would never try to do anything that would hurt us, but he might not know he's giving us bad advice."

"And I called Luna a nutter…" Ron said in a very choreographed aside.

Hermione's eyes narrowed, and Harry held up his hand between them to try to stop things from snowballing into a row, though he was nearly as irritated with Hermione as Ron was. "I believe you're over thinking this," he told her as evenly as he could manage.

Her eyes relaxed, but her mouth kept moving. "But look at Malfoy," she mimicked Harry's calm tone. "She spends all her time with him, and he's like a completely different person."

"I rather like the change," said Harry. Hermione opened her mouth again so he continued. "Look, Hermione, I've resisted the Imperius Curse more than once. I know Occlumency. If she wants to mess with my mind, it's not going to be easy for her, but we _don't know_ that's what she's trying to do. It's just as possible she's on our side, maybe she's spying on the Slytherins for Dumbledore. Have you considered that?"

"Hey, why don't you ask him," Ron suggested. "We got his class now." That settled it.

o

* * *

o

There were two days before they had another Dark Arts class, and in the meantime Ron and Harry started training for the upcoming Quidditch season.

Ginny Weasley's superb ability to boss other people around was not reserved to dismissing D.A. meetings. She was the Gryffindor Quidditch Captain—a fact that Ron had bemoaned quite a bit last year but only to Harry in private. Publicly he gave his sister his utmost support, most likely because he remembered the trouble Fred and George had given him. Harry had been a little disappointed to not make team Captain either, but he had to admit that he had enough on his plate.

They had held tryouts as a matter of ceremony, though they did not take on any new members. Andrew Kirke and Jack Sloper had turned into competent beaters. Ric Gudgeon and Olive Oglethorpe had joined the team last year as chasers and held their own. Ginny had the habit of tossing odd items at them in the common room and the Great Hall and giving them a going over if they failed to catch them. The result was that they were both a little jumpy but had excellent reflexes.

While Ric, Olive, and Ginny swooped back and forth across the field tossing the Quaffle, Harry chased the Snitch. He lost sight of it and decided to hover near Ron until he spotted it again or Ginny yelled at him.

"What's the first game anyway?" he asked Ron.

Ron was shifting his gaze between the chasers with the Quaffle and the beaters with the Bludger in case one of them tried scoring. "Um…I think it's us and Hufflepuff. Say, Harry, if you find the Snitch soon could you get an extra ball and try to score a few. It'll be easier to warm up with you than Ginny and Ric—what the devil?" Harry followed Ron's gaze to the bleachers where a girl under a silver puff of hair was taking a seat. Wide-eyed he looked back at Ron, who was starting to turn pink. "She can't—HEY CAPTAIN!" Ginny whipped her head about to look at Ron, and Ric Gudgeon nearly fell off his broom as he snagged back the pass he was ready to hurl at her. Ron used his full arm to point down at the bleachers. Ginny frowned, then followed his arm and understood. She swung her broom around and flew towards the bleachers, had a few minutes of conversation with P. and then flew back up.

"She's not moving," Ron groused.

"It's alright," Ginny said. "I said she could watch a bit."

Harry's jaw dropped. "You did what?"

Ron's jaw dropped even further than Harry's. "Are you mad? She's a Slytherin Spy!"

"Nonsense. She just wanted to see Harry play a little bit. She heard you were good." Ginny gave Harry a wink.

Harry felt his stomach give a lurch. "She can come to a game then," he said, completely astounded Ginny had not chased her off.

"She'll run and tell Malfoy everything!" Ron growled through clenched teeth.

Ginny snorted and rolled her eyes. "Persephone doesn't know a thing about Quidditch. What's she going to tell Malfoy? That Harry can catch a snitch? He knows that. Stop making that face Ron. She can't tell the Quaffle from a Bludger anyway…AAH!" To punctuate the sentence, one of the Bludgers nearly took Ginny's head off, forcing her to bow. She came up with white faced but quickly turned pink with fury. "Kirke! Sloper! What are you _doing_ over there!" She flew off to yell at them at closer range.

Ron and Harry had to break apart as the Bludger came round again. Sloper broke away from Ginny to chase after it. Harry caught sight of the snitch and made a dive for it. After he had caught it a few minutes later, he rejoined Ron. "Is she still watching?" he panted.

"No, she's _reading_," Ron said with disgust as if this was a worse insult than if she had been spying intently. "I don't even think she saw you catch the snitch… What the bloody hell's wrong with Ginny?"

Harry shrugged, equally bewildered. Ginny seemed to be right. He caught Persephone looking up from her book a few time as practice wore on, but she gave up completely after twenty minutes or so and left the bleachers before they got into any actual tactics. If she was spy, she was the sloppiest spy on earth.

o

* * *

o

The Defense Against the Dark Arts classes continued to get more interesting as Dumbledore went along. Harry thought he was an excellent teacher and wished he could have gotten this level of instruction all the years he had been at Hogwarts. Even Draco Malfoy hung on Dumbledore's every word, attacking lessons with a quiet intensity as if his very life was depending upon them. Harry was certain something had happened to him over the summer, but he could not begin to guess what.

After class, Ron and Hermione left with the rest of the students, but Harry lingered until the classroom was empty. Dumbledore sat at the teachers desk, looking a bit weary, but waiting.

"Did you want to ask me something?" Dumbledore prompted when they were alone.

"Yes, sir," Harry said and approached the desk. "It's about the new transfer student. I was wondering…well, I was wondering if she's on our side."

Dumbledore's bushy white eyebrows furrowed. "Do you mean to say that Ms. P. hasn't spoken with you yet?"

Harry felt even more embarrassed admitting this to Dumbledore than he had to Hagrid. "Well, she has tried, headmaster, but she's rather easily distracted. I haven't been trying to listen, though, to be honest. We…that is, I wasn't sure if it was safe."

Dumbledore's brow unknitted, and he smiled as though he found something sadly amusing about Harry's paranoia. "Quite safe. I assure you."

Harry felt relieved. "She's on our side then?" Dumbledore would know he meant the Order.

"I'm not sure about that," Dumbledore said. "I haven't spoken to her about it. She's still too young in my opinion, too unpredictable."

"Is she dangerous?"

Dumbledore stroked his beard absently. "Potentially…but not to you, Harry."

"You mean she could be dangerous to someone else?" Harry asked sharply.

"Harry," the headmaster said in a calming voice. "I only mean that anyone has the potential for good or evil. Even the most well intentioned person can cause trouble if they're not careful, and I fear Persephone has never been very careful."

"But who is she?"

"Talk to her first, Harry," Dumbledore said, still gently but with a note of finality. "If you have questions after that, then I will try to answer them."

Harry nodded and started to collect his books. "What about Malfoy?" he asked quickly.

Dumbledore's face became very serious. "Young Mr. Malfoy remains a mystery to me as well. If you learn anything that might shed some light on his shadows, I would appreciate it if you shared that information with me."

Harry found Ron and Hermione waiting for him outside the classroom.

"Well, what did he say?"

Harry recounted the conversation.

"I don't like it," said Hermione when he had finished.

"Aren't you the one who said if we couldn't trust Dumbledore, we couldn't trust anyone1," said Ron.

Hermione gave him a pained look.

"Stop," Harry told her sharply. "I trust Dumbledore. If he says she's safe, she's safe."

"That's not exactly what he said though, is it?" Ron muttered.

o

* * *

o

They had Quidditch practice again that afternoon and would have had every evening for the rest of the week if Ginny had her way. Finally, Ron and Harry had to remind her that much as they wanted to take the Quidditch Cup, this was their N.E.W.T. year. Gudgeon and Oglethorpe chimed in with protests about their upcoming O.W.L.s until Ginny promised to restrain herself to one or two practices a week.

Persephone did not try to come to anymore of their practices. She waved to Harry in the halls and spoke to him whenever she could, but it was all boringly simple things like good morning and general comments about the weather. She would engage in deep conversation with anyone else and seemed to do so with nearly everyone at some point or the other. Hermione was staying dutifully silent about her theories, but pursed her lips whenever Persephone came near. Ron was still certain that she and Draco were up to something. Ginny kept dropping hints that she fancied Harry. The evidence seemed to support each conflicting theory about as equally and none of them meshed with what Hagrid and Dumbledore implied. Harry knew it would make his head hurt if he tried to puzzle it out, so he washed his hands of the whole mess, until Persephone decided to give her side.

Not too surprisingly, Mandy Brocklehurst came to the next D.A. meeting with the intelligence that there had never been anyone matching P.'s name or description at Shenk Saundustee Academy. Harry thanked her for the information but instructed the rest of the D.A. to stop trying to investigate P. He gave them Dumbledore's reassurances that she posed no threat and asked them instead to focus their efforts on figuring out Malfoy. Even this discussion was fairly short, he spent most of the meeting time coaching the other students on various practical problems of their Dark Arts lessons.

o

* * *

o

Outside of D.A. meetings Harry found other leadership duties hoisted upon him as Head Boy. These mainly involved passing along instructions from the House Heads to the prefects. Padma Patil seemed to stay even busier as Head Girl than he did, and Harry got the impression that she had volunteered to take on a heavier load so he could have more time for less official activities. He was grateful, because he did not think he could have managed otherwise. Even with the heavier workload, he could not help feeling proud of his badge. It was only memories of Percy and determination not to be _that kind_ of Head Boy that kept him from strutting. Ron and Hermione still had their prefect duties, though Ron claimed they were more enjoyable now that they were Seventh Years and at the top of the food chain.

To make matters worse, their homework loads were beginning to take on the phenomenal portions that Harry remembered from his O.W.L. year. Hermione was all but buried under her N.E.W.T. level homework pile for eight classes. Her books seemed to have grown attached to her body. She met them in the morning with a book, read during meals, fortified herself behind stacks of them at the common room tables, and said goodnight with a book in hand. Harry and Ron also found most of their free time occupied by books, quills, and parchment. They did not have all Hermione's classes, but they did have Quidditch.

"I don't see how you do it," Neville told them in the library one day. "Potions alone is just about to kill me." Snape's improved mood had done nothing to squelch his love of assigning them painfully long essays.

Ron grimaced sympathetically. "Do you think the N.E.W.T.s are as bad as they say?"

"Nastily Exhausting Wizarding Tests," Harry said with a doleful nod.

"At least I've got my own wand this time around," Neville added, loving stroking the twelve and a quarter inches of birch.

"I don't want to hear anything about the N.E.W.T.s before next term," Hermione voice came resolutely from behind her book stack.

"At least I know I'll do alright on the broomstick portion of the exam," said Harry.

Hermione's head popped up, her eyes wide. "There's a broomstick portion?…_Harry_, don't do that to me! Oh, really, all of you, stop snickering. Right hands up. You too, Neville. Repeat after me…right hand, Ron…I solemnly swear not to mention the N.E.W.T.s before Christmas."

"Are you serious?"

"Dead serious. I..solemnly..swear..not..to..mention..the..N.E.W.T.s..before..Christmas."

It was so unusual for Hermione to not want to discuss an exam that they all swore. Bemused Harry shut his Charms text and decided to take a stab at his Potions essay.

"So..uh…Harry?" Ron said peering at Harry's paper. "Is that for Potions? What's it on…The Components of an Anti-Conflagration Elixir…very interesting. That one requires a salamander, right?…those sort of _newt _shaped creatures."

Hermione slapped her palms on the table. "RON."

"Shh!" Madam Pince hissed and squinted warningly at Hermione. Hermione in turn glared at Ron.

"What?" Ron said innocently. Harry bit his inner lip to keep from laughing. Hermione mouthed _you promised_ at him. "Oh, yeah, promised Luna I'd take her...uh, somewhere. I think I see her now." Harry followed Ron's gaze to see Luna waving in large arcs at Ron from the library door.

"You're taking Luna _somewhere_?" Hermione spoke audibly but if anything looked more annoyed.

"Yeah," Ron said, trying to indicated Neville surreptitiously. He need not have bothered. Neville was so intent on his own Potions essay Ron could have held a flashing sign over his head without his taking notice. "You know that _somewhere_ that you don't particularly like going, and I was going to take Luna instead. But if you want to come I'm sure your _language_ skills would be appreciate."

"Oh," Hermione said, and her face fell.

Ron gathered up his books. He stood. "Last chance. Hermione? Harry?"

Hermione shook her head fervently. "I'd better work on this," Harry said, indicating his mostly blank parchment. The prospect of walking through the dark forest to teach English to an untied giant made the essay look a little less daunting. "Have fun."

"Right. I'll say hi for you," Ron assured them.

Harry was still working on his Potions essay when Madam Pince shooed them all out of the library for nine o'clock curfew. As he, Hermione, and Neville trudged towards the staircase leading back to the Gryffindor tower, they met Ron and Luna. Luna was beaming triumphantly, and Hermione, bent over with her load of books, gave the two of them only the smallest grunt of acknowledgement before climbing the staircase.

Harry and Neville waited while Ron wished Luna goodnight, before walking back to the common room with him. Neville took a seat at the table where Hermione had once again set up her book wall encampment.

"I've got to finish this," Neville said with a small moan.

"I think I've had enough for tonight," Harry said continuing towards the boys dorm. "I'm exhausted."

"Me too, I'm ready to turn in," said Ron with a grand stretch. Hermione spared them an annoyed glance before turning back to her homework pile.

Once inside their room, Ron pulled his nightclothes out of his cabinet. Harry, who was more tired of the essay than physically tired, flopped fully dressed onto his bed to read. He opened _Life of the Auror_ by Gilbert Stulwort (a belated birthday present from Tonks in response to his letter), read the table of contents, came across the chapter entitled 'Creating Non-Work Related Relationships', closed it again, and turned to Ron. "I'm getting the impression that Luna rather fancies you."

"Oh, caught on have you," Ron said dryly.

"Can't accuse her of subtlety," Harry said with a shrug. He was not sure what to make of Luna's newfound confidence, so he hesitated before continuing the subject. However, he still felt a great deal of sympathy for her, and Hermione had often accused Ron of being rather dense when it came to such matters. "Do you fancy her?"

"No," Came Ron's muffled reply as he wrestled off his shirt.

"You might need to tell her straight out. I think she might be getting the wrong impression."

"Oh, well," Ron fumbled with the buttons on his pajamas. "It's not that I really dislike her either. I don't want scare off anyone who might be willing to go to the dance with me. It was rather embarrassing not being able to find my own date to the Yule Ball. I'd hate to repeat the experience."

"Sorry," Harry said.

"Not your fault," said Ron, and he flopped back onto his four-poster. "Well, goodnight."

Harry opened to _Chapter One: Testing and Training_.

o

* * *

o

October arrived with a light rain. Harry had hoped it would subside before Quidditch practice that afternoon, but by lunch it had merely gone from a sprinkle to a drizzle. Seamus was beguiling Lavender Brown with his palm reading skills, which was more likely an excuse to hold her hand than a deep seated interest in the noble art of Divination. Parvati was commentating. Dean and Ginny were enchanting utensils to demonstrate Quidditch plays, while Ruby Moon eyed their flying knives warily. Neville was trying to coax a small, sickly looking fanged geranium to eat some of his mutton, while Ron and Hermione eyed it warily.

"You're not keeping that thing in the dorm, are you?" Ron asked.

"Just til it perks up a bit," Neville said. "Poor little thing needs constant attention if it's going to pull through."

"_Excuse me…excuse me, may I have your attention_?" a female voice rang through the Great Hall. Harry looked for the source, as did Dean and Ginny. Ruby yelped as neglect knives hit the table. The conversation around the tables dropped off, though a few patches kept up a light buzz.

Persephone P. stood in front of the high table with her silver wand pointed at her mouth. Professor Sinistra smiled at her approvingly, but the other teachers looked bemused or apprehensive about this breech in protocol. Dumbledore's eyebrows were raised, but he rested his bearded chin on his hand and politely gave Persephone his attention.

"Thank you," she said with the smallest hint of a nervous twitter. "Um… I have some new club announcements." She lifted up the parchment in her other hand and glanced at it occasionally as she spoke.

"The Slytherins have been holding a Friday evening study group for first and second years this past month, and we've had a lot of success with it, so we're opening it up for all the Houses. The study group will start at five o'clock and go 'til seven. We'll be meeting in the third floor study hall. We're encouraging all first and second years to take advantage of it.

"We're also looking for sixth and seventh year students to act as tutors. As well as giving you a chance to get acquainted with your underclassmen, it's a good opportunity to brush up on your basic spells.

"Third through fifth years are encouraged to attend the interest meeting for the new Hogwarts Dueling Club at four o'clock this afternoon in the Great Hall. Professor Snape will be supervising." Harry and Neville exchanged glances. Snape for his part only let the smallest flicker of smugness cross his features.

"For Sixth and Seventh Years we will be holding a _Forum for the Discussion of Current Events_…to well, discuss current events. First meeting will take place at eight o'clock on Tuesday evening in the Arithmancy lab. Thank you for your attention." She dropped her wand and did a sort of half curtsy before retreating to the Slytherin table. The buzz of conversation returned to normal levels.

"You must be joking," Ron muttered.

"I'm going," Ginny said and sent her fork back into the air with a flick of her wand.

"I think we should all go," Harry said. "I want to see what this is about."

Hermione's brow was furrowed in thought. She started to say something, but in her distraction, her hand wandered too close to the fanged geranium. She had to retract it quickly to avoid a bite.

"No," Neville told the plant in a reproachful tone. "The mutton, eat the mutton."

o

* * *

o

Harry and Ron returned from Quidditch practice that afternoon stiff and slightly damp. They slogged their way into the castle. Their minds on dry clothes and a long, warm soak in the prefects' bathroom.

"Harry! Hey, Harry!" a cheerful voice rang out across the entrance hall. Harry looked up to see Persephone wave and hurry down the steps towards them.

"Oh look," Ron said. "Here comes Moaning Myrtle."

Persephone stopped in her tracks. She looked thoroughly shocked by Ron's words. Harry was not in the mood to talk to her, but he thought Ron might have overstepped by insulting her. He glanced at Ron and saw that Ron had not expected Persephone to hear him, or had not expected her to take it so hard, but was stubbornly determined not to apologize. Harry considered doing it for him.

"Myrtle!" Persephone repeated in a stricken tone. She put her hand to her forehead. "I've been here a month, and I haven't said a word to Myrtle!" She spun on her heels and raced off up the stairs.

"Completely mental," Ron muttered in astonishment. Harry nodded.

o

* * *

**1**. Paraphrased from Order of the Phoenix Ch. 25.


	8. The Snack Box

**Disclaimer:** This story is based on the Harry Potter novels written by J.K. Rowling. All characters created by J.K. Rowling are owned by J.K. Rowling. The few characters created by me (i.e. Persephone, Hotchet, Kagome…) belong to me, but are available for use in other fics as long as I get credited as their creator. None of us are making any money off this and no infringement is intended.

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o

**Level 2.5: The Snack Box**

By Monday morning, Daphne and Indigo had forgiven Draco. This did not surprise him. The Seventh Year Slytherin girls had gotten their feelings hurt from time to time before and had developed a fairly predictable cycle of pouting and recanting. They had tweaked Indigo's hair color into a more natural auburn, though Draco hoped they would eventually take it back to black. Daphne's hair was most definitely red, about the right shade for a Weasley. Draco considered telling her this, but she was still in the part of the cycle where she was particularly nice to make up for having been mad at him. She had even been civil when Blaise decided to break his habit of six years and sit down with them for breakfast.

At the far end of the breakfast table, Persephone was chatting up the Dey children. She had her arm around Thomas's shoulder but was mainly addressing Victoria. Her light and Victoria's darkness seemed to have, rather than clashing, negated each other. The three of them looked almost normal sitting together, which was quite an achievement considering.

The owls swooped down dropping their post and parcels. Draco was not surprised to see another package arrive for Persephone. He was surprised when a large box dropped before his own plate. "What on earth?" He spotted a letter taped to the side of the package and recognized his mother's handwriting on the address. His pulse quickened.

When he had been very small, he had known his parents would always do everything in their power to protect him, because that was what parents did. When he was small, Voldemort had been discussed in past tense, and only Muggles and wicked stepparents in fairytales beat their children. Up to last year, Draco would have been delighted to see any package from his mother. Now the sight of the unmarked box brought to mind horror stories of murderous jack-in-the-boxes, cursed cutlery, and the crude sort of bombs Muggles used to kill each other.

"Pansy!" he snapped. She had been starting to play her fingers along the edge of the package. She pulled them back and looked at him curiously. "It's my package," he explained lamely.

"Alright," she said, deciding not to take offense, and eyed the letter. "She forgiven you yet?"

Draco opened it. It was remarkably short.

_Draco,_

_You're really starting to worry me. Why haven't you written? Are you ill, my love? I heard you haven't been eating well. Please keep in mind what I told you in my last letter._

_Concerned,_

_Narcissa Malfoy_

"Um, sure," he said because Pansy was watching.

"It's really hard to stay mad at you," Daphne said in a show of good will that made his stomach twist.

Normally, he would open packages from his mother immediately and show off the contents. His instincts, right now however, were recommending he drop it in the nearest trash bin unopened. There was no way he would be able to explain this behavior to his peers, so he decided to open it in front of them. At least that way if a venomous tentacula reached out to grab him, Crabbe could fight it off and rush him to the hospital wing.

Draco bit his tongue and tried to avoid outward signs of apprehension as he removed the strings and opened the lid—to find a box filled with all his favorite sweets. His mother often sent him packages of sweets during the school year but rarely with such complete spectrum and quantity—Sugar buns, sugar quills, cherry cordials, blueberry scones (arguably his favorite), raspberry tarts, treacle fudge (which he only pretended to like because Crabbe and Goyle were fond of it), cauldron cakes, a Chocolate frog, and even a bag of Bertie Botts (though she _knew_ he didn't care for them)—arranged in a way only his mother could have managed to make them look particularly appetizing. He wondered if she was trying to apologize…or just poison him.

"Oh wow," Crabbe said, eyeing the contents.

Draco felt a little green. He closed the lid so he would not have to look at the sugary glisten. It was rather awful because he could practically taste the scones even though they were wrapped tight in Everlastic and the lid was shut. He resolved not to put any of it in his mouth. If it was a bribe to keep him quiet about Evra and Voldemort, it was a poor and unnecessary one, and if it was poisoned, well, then he would just feel dumb for eating any.

"Not hungry?" Pansy asked. Draco shook his head. He knew she had been eyeing the cordials. He was usually pretty generous with his sweets from home, preferring the popularity boost to sugary stuffs.

"I gotta stay light if I'm gonna play seeker this year."

"Do you mind if I have some then?" Crabbe asked. Goyle was leaning in as well. Draco started to push it toward him out of habit and then stopped himself, feeling horrified by what he had almost done. Poison did not suddenly become less poisonous because it was ingested by someone other than the intended target…well, most poisons didn't.

"Uh-No, you can't," he sputtered and pulled the box back towards himself, so Crabbe would not be tempted to make a snag at the fudge.

Crabbe looked a little hurt. "How come?"

"Well, it's my package. I can keep it to myself if I want, can't I?" Draco said and put the box in his lap.

"Be fair," Goyle said with a scowl. He was not taking well to this break in custom.

"I am being fair. They're mine," Draco protested. He knew he was coming off like a petulant toddler, but he could hardly explain why he was not sharing. Crabbe looked stunned, and Goyle looked stunned and irritated.

"It's not like you couldn't afford to lay off the sweets, Vincent," Daphne said coolly. "And you too, Gregory. Really, I think it's a wonder you haven't snapped your broom." Crabbe, Goyle, and Millicent were now glaring murderously at Daphne. Draco could have kissed her. She played with her plate, looking superior and unconcerned, but the tension was there. Indigo let out a short laugh at the broom comment, and Daphne bit at her too. "Oh, shut up, Stump, and eat your porridge before I shove that whole box of sweets down your throat."

Indigo pouted but grudgingly jabbed her spoon into her porridge.

Pansy decided it was time to intervene. "Daphne, be nice. They're beaters. They've got to have some muscle. Gregory, Vincent, you look just fine," she said diplomatically. "Of course now, boys, the package is Draco's, and he can do as he pleases with it." The way she looked at Draco conveyed a non-verbal sigh. "Indigo, swallow. Hello, Pea."

"Morning." Persephone slipped into the empty seat beside him, her own package in hand. She started to say something, eyed the box in Draco's lap, and said in a voice that was almost casual. "What's that?"

"Sweets from mum," Draco told her, hoping to convey more with his eyes. For a second, her expression went blank and her eyes showed understanding, then she recovered herself and forced a smile.

"Well, that's nice," she said, and the forced smile dropped. "I got my O.W.L. results." She held up the letter. Draco took it from her to look it over.

"What just now?" asked Pansy.

Persephone jumped a little. "Well, I took them late, you see."

"Took them _late_?"

"Well, they don't have O.W.L.s in Canada," Draco supplied, hoping that was true.

"So, I had to take them, sort of like an entrance exam for sixth year at Hogwarts," Persephone continued.

Pansy's brow furrowed. "But, if you're just now getting your grades, how'd they know which classes to let you in? I mean you have to have an 'O' to get in Advanced Potions."

"Well, Dumbledore looked my tests over before they were sent off for official grading," Persephone explained. "And he sort of guessed my grade from that."

Pansy looked morally offended. "But he can't do that, can he?"

"Of course, he can. He's the headmaster," Draco said shortly. Pansy's blunt curiosity made him uncomfortable, but Daphne's shrewd expression and Zabini's watching convinced him it was time to flee. "Come on, Persephone, I'll walk you to class."

"But-"

"I'll see you later, Pansy. Crabbe, Goyle, Charms, fifteen minutes."

"Bye," Persephone added, as she gathered her package and followed Draco out of the Great Hall.

To keep the conversation from returning to the box too soon, he indicated the letter. "These are pretty good," Draco said. "Considering."

Persephone went back to looking dejected. "I got an 'E' in Transfiguration."

"That's not a bad grade, particularly considering you only got a 'P' in Magical Creatures."

"Well, I rather expected that," Persephone pouted. "Naturally, I'd do badly on Creatures. I'm not sure why he even bothered making me take the written. But I'm _good_ at Transfiguration. Oh, it must have been that stupid essay." She kicked at the ground.

"Oh, buck-up," Draco said. "Look, you got an 'O' in Divination."

"But Divination's so _useless_!"

"Well, if that doesn't make you happy, you've got three more," said Draco. "Granted History of Magic is pretty useless too, but Potions is useful…_Excalibur_." The section of dungeon wall serving as an entrance swung open.

"History is not useless," she said huffily, as the door to the Slytherin common room closed behind them. "But four 'O's is just embarrassing!"

Draco gave her a bland smile. "Don't let Goyle hear you say that."

"What? He get four?"

Draco snorted. "He didn't get one. Essays killed him, poor fellow. He did manage to scrape an 'E' in Transfiguration."

"Oh." Draco watched the sympathy for Goyle and continued desire to whine over self-disappointment fight for a place on her features.

"Is it my imagination or was the Bloody Baron following us?"

"It wouldn't surprise me," Persephone said. "The ghosts have been taking turns walking me to classes." She dropped her voice. "I think they're worried I'm going to disappear again." Her eyes grazed over the box in Draco's hand then traveled up to his face. "Do you think she did something to them?"

Draco looked at the box forlornly. "I don't know. I wish I had a way to…ah-_Patafacere_!"

"Bless you."

He gave her an annoyed side-glance, and she returned it with a small grin. "It's a potion, detects poisons."

"Ah."

Draco nodded. "The ingredients are a bit expensive, requires Graphorn's horn, but we're making some next week, using the school stores. I could sneak some."

"There's another one that's a little easier to make," Persephone said, her brow furrowed in the attempt to remember. "Oh, I can't think of the name…but it should be pretty easy to look up. I remember all the ingredients could be found in a standard kit."

"You mind skipping lunch?" She shook her head. "Meet you back here then. Let's stow these upstairs and get to class."

Afterwards Draco walked her to class, which was a rather surreal experience. The Bloody Baron bobbed along beside them, and Persephone chatted with him as though it was the most natural thing in the world. The Baron for his part kept most of his responses to nods but made a polite inquiry into their health, which Draco could not fathom how to return in kind. The presence of the ghost escort tended to give them a wide berth from the other students, but that did not stop large numbers of them from waving cheerful "goodmorning"s to Persephone, which she returned gleefully. Draco kept his hands in his pockets. No one waved at him when he made his way back to the Charms corridor alone.

Draco tried to pay attention during Charms, but he kept reaching into his pocket to pull out his mother's short letter. Crabbe and Goyle were still a little miffed at him, but that meant they let him go after class without objections.

He found Persephone during the lunch period sitting on the floor of the Slytherin common room. She had her cauldron set up near the fireplace and a book open in her lap. "Find it?" he asked and joined her.

"Oiu. It's pretty simple. I think we have time to make it before the next class. And it's probably a good thing we're using both potions. Between the two they cover most everything, but there's quite a bit each would miss."

"Mum, would be proud," Draco said humorlessly. "So what's this one called?"

"A Standard Poison Detection Potion."

"I see how you could forget the name." She made a face at him. They followed the directions, taking turns stirring and adding ingredients. The potion called for six ounces of ground Agaricus which was more than he had left in his kit, so Persephone used some from hers. They had to let it sit for a few minutes before adding the sage. Draco looked around to make sure none of the students passing through were taking too much of an interest in them and handed Persephone the note his mother had sent. "Anything about that strike you as odd?"

"It's short," Persephone said. "Wonder what part of the last letter she wants you to remember."

"All of it, probably," Draco said. "But what about this, how did she know I'd skipped meals?"

Persephone shrugged. "I didn't tell her."

"I know that, but who did? And why? Do you think someone could be spying on me?"

Persephone frowned. "It's possible. You said some of the others were Death Eater children."

"Shh."

"It's not like it's a secret. I've been reading some back issues of the Prophet in the library. I'm not holding it against them, mind. Narcissa always had her ways of finding out things. If one of the teachers noticed, they might have written her." Draco shook his head. "Well, what about the paintings? They can travel between their own likenesses. Do you have any duplicates in the manor?"

He had not thought about that. The idea disturbed him, but he was pretty certain his father would not have given Dumbledore a window into his home if he could avoid it. "No, I don't think so. Besides there aren't any portraits in the Great Hall."

"Do you get the feeling anyone's watching you?"

"They're always watching me," Draco said, dropping the sage into the cauldron. He glanced about him. The common room was nearly deserted but the few people passing through eyed them curiously. "Everyone."

"I'd be wasting my time if I told you not to worry about it, wouldn't I?"

"Yup." The potion was very green. It had the opacity of icing, but much thinner consistency. "Is it ready?"

"Mm-hm."

"So what do we do?"

"Drop in a bit of whatever you think might be poisoned and see if it reacts."

"Reacts?"

"Poison should make the potion fizz or change color or something."

Draco opened the box of sweets. "Do you think the poison is in one thing or everything?"

"I don't think any of it's poisoned," she said. They were already speaking in low voices out of habit, but she dropped hers so that it was barely audible. "They would know it was Narci. She'd be arrested; the manor would be searched by Aurors. Besides poison's sloppy."

Draco nodded. That was his mother's number one rule. _Don't get caught. _Maybe she was simply trying to win him back, apologizing the only way she could. _More flies with honey_ and all that. "But if she did want to poison me?" he murmured softly, the words threatening to stick in his throat.

"Only reason she'd risk it is to stop you from telling something. Like what you saw to make you run. You're still not going to tell me are you?" Draco shook his head. Either way, he was a trapped fly. Persephone sighed. "I think she'd be thorough, poison everything. She wouldn't take the chance of you giving away the poisoned item to someone else or saving it for a few weeks. What's your favorite?"

"Scones."

"Pop a bit of that in first."

Draco pulled on a glove, unwrapped a scone, broke off a piece, and dropped it into the green potion. The scone bit sank beneath the surface with an anti-climatic lack of fizz. It was oddly disappointing. He rewrapped the remainder so they could check it later. He went through the same ceremony with the buns, tarts, and other items. His Chocolate Frog made it halfway to the leather sofa before he caught it and broke off a leg to drop in the potion. There was still no reaction, and he was ready to give up.

"Do you want to try the beans?"

He sighed. "She _knows_ I don't eat them."

"I do though," Persephone said thoughtfully. "Maybe she's after me rather than you."

"That's possible, but lots of people eat them."

"Drop a few in."

He did so. One of them left a dark spot where it hit the surface. He grimaced. "What does that mean?"

"Um…" Persephone consulted her book. "I think that means it uses Red dye number 40."

"Which isn't deadly."

"Not last I checked."

"Well, this was a wonderful waste of time, wasn't it?"

"Hopefully. We'll know for sure when we have the _Patafacere_." She gave him a half smile. "Guess I ought to clean this up."

Draco pulled out his wand and pointed it at the potion. "_Evanesco_." The green goo vanished, leaving an empty cauldron.

"You've got nice control," she said appreciatively. "I was worried I'd make the cauldron vanish."

Draco shrugged. He had been taking the lazy route rather than trying to show off.

She looked him over with a shrewd expression. "I think you should know something." He raised his eyebrow curiously. "Lucius got five 'O's on his O.W.L.s, and he worked very hard for them."

Draco just blinked at her a few times. "Five?" She nodded.

"There you are!" Daphne's voice rang lightly across the common room. Persephone's hands gave a startled twitch. Draco shoved the box quickly behind his back, and made a bigger show of packing up the potion ingredients. "Have you've been doing homework all this time?" she asked, looking disappointed.

"Yes," Persephone said quickly. "Draco was helping me with a little extra credit project for Professor Snape."

"Good to take advantage of it. He doesn't give extra credit assignments often," Daphne said, then sunk down in one of the large chairs and checked herself in a compact. While Daphne muttered at her reflection, Draco and Persephone quickly packed the cauldron away.

"You should write her back," Persephone said.

Draco bit back a sigh. "I know."

"Do you mean to tell me you haven't written your mother _yet_?" Daphne tisked disapprovingly. Draco scowled at her, and bit back the urge to say that he had not meant to tell _her_ anything. Daphne laughed suddenly. "You're turning into a rather bad boy, aren't you?"

Draco hurled a throw pillow at her, though not hard enough to do any damage. "I've been busy. Got six N.E.W.T.s coming up."

Daphne caught the pillow and laughed again. "Be nice. I'm you're side." She hurled the pillow back again. He caught it, and their eyes met. Not for the first time, he got the fleeting impression that she understood him and his darkness better than any of them.

_Dearest Mother,_

_Thank you for the package and reading recommendation. I am sorry to have taken so long to write you. It was not my intent to make you worry. I've just been incredibly busy. So busy in fact, I'm seriously considering giving up Quidditch. _

_I had hoped the letter I left on my dresser would have explained everything. I would like to think we understand each other, the way old friends do. For we are the oldest of friends aren't we, mother? You've always kept my secrets as I keep yours._

_I am sorry about the Quibbler nonsense, and hope that you recognize it for just that. Please, do not worry. I have not forgotten the importance of appearance._

_Your Devoted Son,_

_Draco Malfoy_

Draco sent Oberon off with the letter that evening, and by the next morning the owl had returned with his mother's response.

_My Only Blood,_

_I can't believe you really want to give up Quidditch. The game has given you so much pleasure. Do not abandon it now, even under the weight of your studies. I know your father would not approve._ _You and he are sons of the air. Wind is in your blood. I can not picture you willingly earthbound. Are you sure this is entirely your idea?_

_I want to trust you, my Draco, but I can't help but feel that I am losing you._

_Faithfully Yours,_

_N.M._

Draco scratched out a short reply before his morning class.

_Mother,_

_It is the nature of all children to grow and become increasingly independent. This is not loss but maturity. I remember everything you and father taught me. Trust that._

_Love,_

_Draco_

He sent the letter before Ancient Runes, making him late for class, and Professor Noachian took a point from Slytherin for his tardiness. It was a long time before his mother wrote back.

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In a strange way, or perhaps it merely made for a convenient excuse, the loss of the point helped endear him to Crabbe and Goyle once again. They both called Noachian several unflattering names and suggested unpleasant things they could do to avenge the lost point.

It was only one point, and Draco was quite sure he could win it back. If he had hoped to do so in Potions, however, he found that he was out of luck. Professor Snape was continuing to be extremely cold to him. He said something to Pansy about it at dinner, and she assured him it was his imagination.

Draco sighed.

"He's always like that," Pansy said. "All dark and crabby, but I'm sure he means well."

"Who?" Persephone asked, making her usual late arrival at the dinner table.

"Professor Snape."

"Oh," Persephone scowled, her voice taking on a defensive quality. "He's not crabby. He just holds everyone to high standards. I think that's a good quality in a professor."

"I'm not criticizing his teaching ability," Pansy said distractedly. "I just think he can be a bit crabby."

"I think it's about time Professor Snape got himself a girlfriend," Daphne said expertly. "He'd be so much less tense."

Pansy scrunched her nose in disgust. "Who in their right mind would date Snape?"

"I think he's very attractive," Persephone said, trying not to sound huffy.

Pansy goggled. Daphne snapped her head about. Her eyes sparkled as though Persephone had suddenly become very interesting. "He is yummy, isn't he?" she said with a broad grin.

Persephone smiled at her new kindred spirit and nodded enthusiastically. "And his voice?"

"Mm, velvet."

Alice spoke up, startling Pansy. "I don't know if I'd call him handsome exactly, but he's got _presence_."

Indigo was nodding her agreement. "Yes, presence."

Draco felt Persephone kick him lightly under the table as if to say _I told you so._

"He's got a big nose," Draco said as he stabbed a bit of steak. Normally, he did not like to criticize Snape, but Persephone's preoccupation with him disturbed him rather deeply, more so to hear her drag the other girls into it.

"I like his nose," Persephone said primly. "I think it makes him look distinguished."

"I like the way he dresses," Indigo added. "It's dramatic."

"It's all black," Pansy said with a snort.

"I like the way his robes fit," Daphne said. Crabbe nearly choked on his potatoes.

"You're disgusting, Greengrass," said Pansy. There was a look of mild horror about her features, and Crabbe's as well. "He's _old_."

"I like them mature," said Daphne, taking a little too long to slide the bite off her fork. Daphne had never made it much of a secret that she preferred older men.

"But he's a _professor_!" Crabbe protested.

"Oh, that just makes it interesting," Daphne said and licked some remaining sauce off the fork. Alice and Indigo were both turning pink with effort to suffocate their giggles. Pansy looked indignant.

"He's not old," Persephone said. She had been giggling as well but choked it down to set the record straight. "He's only thirty-seven."

"Really?" Pansy dropped her look of disgust for one of genuine surprise. "I would have thought he was much older."

"That's just because he's got the world weary look," Daphne continued. "Like he _knows _all sorts of dark and secret things. It's part of the allure."

Draco grimaced and rubbed his temples. This conversation would not be nearly so disturbing if they weren't talking about Professor Snape.

"We're talking about _Professor Snape_," Pansy said sharply. "A Hogwarts teacher. It's disrespectful, and there's absolutely no allure."

"I think he's got tons of allure," Persephone retorted. "What do you think, Millicent?"

"Yup, Snape is sexy," Millicent said in her blunt, pragmatic manner. Goyle, who had been successfully ignoring the conversation to that point, looked startled. Crabbe had quite abandoned attempting to eat. Pansy looked to Draco for support, and the other girls doubled up with suppressed giggles.

Draco exchanged a sympathetic glance with her and looked up at the teachers table. Snape was looking in their general direction. When Draco caught his eye, his expression changed, and he looked away_. It's not just disappointment. He's angry at me, _Draco thought. _But why? What did I do?_

When he came back to the conversation, Goyle was speaking surlily to Millicent. Pansy was trying to distract the girls from Snape with other professors.

"What about Firenze? He's actually quite good looking…well, the top half anyway."

"Sure, the top half, but what about the bottom?" Daphne said.

"Firenze?" asked Persephone.

"The Advanced Divination instructor," Alice explained, then lowered to a whisper. "He's a centaur. I know it's absolutely scandalous to have a half breed teaching, but he's so gorgeous!"

Blaise, who had not looked up from his book for the previous conversation, remained engrossed in his novel. Draco wondered why Blaise had bothered to sit with them at all, but then he was starting to wonder why he had bothered to sit with them.

He wanted to shock them. Do something completely unexpected. Something that would shake the very foundation of how they saw him. Taking Hermione to the dance would certainly do that, but it was so far away and dependent upon her cooperation.

_I could walk off the Quidditch team,_ he told himself. He had threatened to do so in his letter, because he knew it would hurt his father. Hurt Lucius in a way that would not really injure him, hurt him in a way he could not be sure that was the intention. He had not really considered whether or not he would actually do it. _But I could_.

He had been surprised that his mother had reacted so melodramatically. _Sons of the air, wind in your blood_ that sort of appeal was too flowery to have been his father's words in her name. She was always supportive of his Quidditch pursuits but had not invested nearly the same time or energy on them that his father had. Maybe she was more worried that someone else was talking him off the team, but that made even less sense. Persephone had not said a word about whether he should play, nor had Dumbledore or Snape or anyone else. Or maybe it was not her but Voldemort who wanted him to stay on the team.

He could not conceive of any reason why it would be important to Voldemort to have him on the Quidditch team or for Dumbledore to have him off. Unless, Voldemort wanted Draco to kill Harry during a Quidditch match, but that was absurd. Brutal as Quidditch might be, there were too many teachers watching during a game, unless he could make it look like an accident.

He was contemplating death by Quidditch when he felt Persephone shove a bit of parchment into his palm.

_Trophy Room 8:30_

So at eight thirty, he wandered into the trophy room. It was a large room. The walls were covered with crystal cases full of an endless variety of gleaming trophies, cups, and other well-polished honors but no portraits. Persephone was already there, searching the cases. "It's gone," she said as much to herself as to him. "The shield that used to be here. It's gone."

"Is that what you wanted to speak to me about? A missing shield?"

"Oh, no…I wanted to talk about the Deys."

"What days?-oh, the Deys, Thomas. Um," Draco stuck his hands into his pockets, wrapped his fingers around the envelope of jewels. This was not among the list of topics he had been expecting to discuss. "Did you figure out anything?"

"Yes and no. It's a bit more complicated than we thought. Their father's a Death Eater."

Draco ran his hand through his hair and used the gestures as a chance to check the room again for anyone or thing that might be listening. "How do you know?"

"Well, I talked to Victoria first-"

"She told you?" he spurted in surprise.

"No, of course not. Not directly anyway. She isn't going to let Thomas or herself testify against him."

"She's got a rather tight leash on him doesn't she?"

"She's trying to protect him. So I asked Dumbledore-"

"You went to _Dumbledore_?"

Persephone put her hands on her hips as though asking if he was going to interrupt every sentence.

"It's just that Professor Snape is head of Slytherin House," Draco explained. "If you were going to a teacher, you should have gone to him."

"That's pretty much what Dumbledore said. He sent me to Severus. I know I probably should have gone to him first, but it's strange to me to think of him as Head of Slytherin House. He's still my Severus." Her hands slid off her hips and clasped behind her back. "He said Victoria and Thomas are safe for right now. Victoria always stays over Christmas Holidays so they won't have to worry about facing their father until June. He'll try to figure out something to do for them by then."

"Well, it's taken care of then," Draco said with some relief. He had dreaded that the she was going to ask him to do something.

She frowned. "Did you know? That their father was a Death Eater?"

Draco shook his head. "I know some of them, not all. That's part of why I'm a bit paranoid. I don't know which of the students might be reporting back or taking orders for that matter."

"Children aren't their parents."

"No, they're just shaped by them."

Persephone sighed and turned back to the display case. "They put Harry and Ron's award in its place. 'H. Potter and R. Weasley. Special Services to the school.' It's rather ironic."

Draco could not see what that had to do with anything. He felt a draft and crossed his arms over his chest. "You been spending a lot of time with Professor Snape?"

Persephone nodded, her eyes still on the case. "We've got a lot of catching up to do. Twenty years worth of old news."

"Well, somewhere in your chats do you think you could ask him why he's hacked off with me?"

Persephone looked at him curiously. "Surely he's not mad at you."

"He's giving a good impression of it then."

"I'll talk to him," she said in thoughtful manner than reminded him of his mother agreeing to have a private argument with his father on his behalf. They never argued in front of him. It was one of those unspoken rules. Disagreements were private things, not to be displayed. Persephone caught his glum expression and reached over to hug him. "It will be all right."

"Caught ya!"

They started and broke apart. Filch stood in the doorway. His cat, Mrs. Norris, curled about his feet. He gave them a nasty smile. "Against the rules to fraternize in the halls. A prefect should know that."

Persephone recovered from her surprise and gave Filch one of her disarming smiles. Her voice carried the echoes of a laugh as though he had said some thing funny. "We weren't-"

"I know what you weren't, missy," Mr. Filch cut her off, clearly not disarmed. "I think a detention is in order."

"You can't give us detention," Draco drawled. His heart rate was returning to normal, and he was annoyed with Filch for startling him. "You can only recommend them. A non-teaching staff member should know that."

Filch flushed. "I'll be having a chat with Professor Snape then."

"You do that," Draco said as he slid past Filch into the hall. He looked back to Persephone, expecting her to follow, but she stayed where she was looking uncertain. "Come on," he prompted.

She hesitated a moment but decided trapped with Filch in the trophy room was the worse option. With an apologetic look, she sidestepped past Filch. As she passed, Mrs. Norris hissed and flattened her ears. Filch bent down to soothe her. "Don't like the nasty girl, do you, my sweet?"

Persephone looked wounded. She opened her mouth, but Draco grabbed her arm and stalked off quickly. She was forced to follow. "Worthless Squib," he muttered, as they left Filch far behind.

"Is he?" Persephone asked, tripping to keep up with him. "Poor man."

Draco snorted. "Don't waste your pity on him, and don't worry about Mrs. Norris, either. That cat doesn't like anyone." He did not add that he had rarely seen Mrs. Norris react so dramatically to a student.

"No," Persephone said as they descended the stairs. "It's me. I'm unnatural."

o

* * *

o

Draco could threaten and bluster all he liked, but his mother was right about one thing. He could not give up Quidditch. He circled the Quidditch field on Thursday afternoon, watching the hopefuls try to get the Quaffle past Jonathan. He had suggested to Jonathan that he should try as a Chaser and look for someone smaller to play seeker. It had been a fantastic boost to Draco's ego, when Jonathan had balked.

"You're a fantastic seeker," Jonathan had insisted. "You've only lost the Snitch to Potter."

"But I always lose the Snitch to Potter," Draco said glumly.

"So don't this year," Jonathan said with a shrug. "Look, only one to ever snatch the Snitch from Potter is Diggory, and you snatched it from Diggory. You've got five years experience and a Timebender. I'm not trading that for someone lighter."

There was really no feeling to compare to flying other than flying. The feeling was infinitely better on a clear day with your teammates behind you and nothing chasing you. He had worried a little at first about leaving the safety of the castle walls for the exposure of the Quidditch field, but his anxieties had melted away when his feet left the ground. There had always been an element of risk to playing Quidditch, one he had long ago accepted, and Draco knew what remained of his life would not be bearable if he just watched the others play.

The Slytherin Quidditch team had been a boys only club for as long as Draco had been at Hogwarts, so the four remaining members had a long debate before finally admitting that Chesann Blampied was a far superior Chaser to anyone else trying out. They had an even longer debate trying to decide who would take the remaining two Chaser slots. In the end, they chose two more girls, Chesann's cousins, fifth year Holly Blampied and fourth year Enid Seckatchian. Not because the younger girls were particularly good, they were competent, but because they had been training with Chesann for the past several years and had already established a certain rhythm with her.

He climbed the stairs to the Astronomy Tower that evening, the wind still in his blood. Crabbe and Goyle were too exhausted from Quidditch practice to make any protest as he left them to sit across the room. It took a little more effort to get past Indigo, Alice, Lisa, and Su, who were nearly ecstatic to learn that the three girls had made the Slytherin team. To his delight, he caught Hermione watching the commotion. Her expression was unreadable, but he still liked the idea of her watching him be surrounded by a crowd of excited girls. At length he broke away from them and took his seat.

"Had Quidditch tryouts today," he said, because it was the most convenient conversation opener he had.

She made a noncommittal noise.

He started to say something about the new appointments but felt that might violate some Quidditch code of conduct. He glanced at her hand and noticed the bandages were gone. He almost said something about it but worried it might bring up unpleasant memories. "It's a nice clear night," he said instead. _Wonderful, the weather, I'm talking about the weather._

She made another noise that almost sounded like an affirmative.

Obviously, Hermione was not interested in talking. _It doesn't matter_, he told himself. _She heard you_.

o

* * *

o

On Tuesday, Persephone was missing at the beginning of lunch, but this had stopped being unusual. Draco had a good appetite and was enjoying watching Daphne and Nott argue over their latest Dark Arts assignment. Pansy was frowning at something past his head.

"Nicholas Horne's a half-blood isn't he?" she asked Draco.

He chewed and swallowed the mouthful of potatoes he had just taken, while he tried to remember who Horne was. "Sixth year? Hufflepuff? Yeah, he's a half-blood."

Persephone finally appeared carrying a large newspaper and slid into the empty spot between Draco and Nott.

"You do know Horne's a half-blood," Pansy told her in lieu of a greeting.

Persephone's eyes widened slightly as though Pansy had just given her an interesting and enlightening piece of information. "No, I didn't. I mean I knew his mother was a Muggle, but he hadn't said about his father."

Pansy just blinked at her. Daphne's lips parted to laugh, but she checked herself. Pansy placed her fingers to her temple as she recovered herself. "Alice?" she said in a tone that said _please explain_.

"Now, Persephone," Alice said diplomatically. "If you're going to sit with the Seventh Years, you really ought to avoid randomly associating with people of questionable backgrounds."

"Oh, I wasn't randomly associating," Persephone said, not missing a beat. "I was asking him a question. He's in my Muggle Studies class."

Pansy's eyes went very wide. "You're taking Muggle Studies?" Persephone nodded. "Why on earth would you want to take Muggle Studies?"

"Could be useful," Draco said, thinking about the past summer. "If you were stranded or something."

"If you're stranded, you can call the Knight Bus," said Pansy.

"Not if your wand's been snapped," Nott said helpfully.

Pansy rolled her eyes. "Sure if your dumb enough to find yourself in the middle of the countryside with no broom, no wand, and you failed your Apparation exam, it might be bit inconvenient. I'm not worried about that happening enough to subject myself to an entire course on _Muggles_."

"Does sound rather dull," Nott agreed. "Ah, my beloved beckons." He clambered out of his seat to join a blonde sixth year girl waving at him from the far end of the Slytherin table.

"Honestly, I think it should be a required course," Persephone said, pushing Nott's abandon plate aside to make room for her paper.

"Required?" Pansy repeated with a truly horrified expression.

"Well, it's very practical. Numerically there are loads more Muggles out there than wizards."

"But none of the other Slytherins are taking it, are they?" Pansy protested.

"No, I think I'm the only one," Persephone said. "Out of the sixth years anyway. It's a little strange don't you think? The class is loads of fun. I can't believe all the things that have changed. They've replaced records now with shiny little silver disks-"

"CDs," Daphne supplied.

"Right, and they've got home computers and this thing called the Internet. I want to get on the Internet. You can talk to people in China."

"You can talk to people in China with good quality magic mirror," Pansy said, giving Daphne a strange look. "Wizards have been able to do that for ages."

"Sure if you already know who you want to speak to, but on the Internet, they got chat room things where you can talk to a bunch of people at once, meet strangers, and…"

"Why on earth would you want to talk to strangers in China?" said Draco.

"Well, I'm not sure," Persephone admitted. "But it's still rather wicked that you can. And that's not all you can do. It's got all sorts of information, like a library in a box. I think it's really exciting."

"It's pretty cool. We've got a connection at home," said Millicent. She paused and looked startled as though she had just let slip some terrible secret and hurried to explain. "I like to follow American football, and you can get Quidditch scores if you know where to look."

"That's wonderful," Persephone said encouragingly. "Maybe you could show me sometime. I'd love to see it."

Millicent relaxed and smiled back at her. Then she caught Pansy's disapproving expression and wilted a bit. "I can't believe a Muggle game is all that interesting," Pansy said coolly.

"Football's great," Goyle disagreed. "The players are huge, and the whole games about them knocking each other over. They're always breaking bones and stuff. Millicent's dad took us to a game this summer."

"With us it was always Muggle music," Persephone said. "Papa is always bringing home new records for us. Professor Kotter said we're doing a music section next. He's gonna play Beatles records for us."

"I love The Beatles," Millicent said.

"Bugs?"

"Not bugs, Pansy, they're a band," Daphne explained. Pansy was giving Daphne an even stranger look now.

"They're really good," Indigo said. "For a Muggle band…Millicent made me listen."

"_Eleanor Rigby_," Persephone sang, and Millicent, Daphne, Indigo, and to Draco's great surprise Alice joined her. He, Crabbe, and Pansy watch bewildered as the girls sang about strange people who kept their faces in jars.

They broke off grinning, and Daphne laughed. "Have you heard David Bowie?"

"No, I haven't," said Persephone looking eager.

"I've got every one of his albums," Daphne confessed with the same relish she used to divulge dirty gossip. "He's absolutely divine. I'll have to play some for you."

Pansy turned to Persephone in an attempt to regain her place in the conversation. "You know the Weird Sisters played here a few years back," she said with a superior smile.

"Oh, no, I didn't," Persephone admitted. "But then I'm not familiar with the Weird Sisters. Are they any good?"

Pansy's jaw dropped. "Any good? They're the best!"

"Yes, definitely the best wizarding band," Indigo echoed.

Draco had always thought the Weird Sisters were a little over rated. He was much bigger fan of Celestina Warbeck but had a feeling that admitting so would lose him status points with the younger wizards.

"You do know that their _Dance Magic_ is a Bowie cover," Daphne said.

Pansy looked scandalized. "Is not."

Daphne laughed at her. "Yes, dear, it is." Pansy flushed.

"Lot's of wizarding bands do Muggle covers," Persephone said. "It's been like that for ages. I think Muggles are really rather clever with their music."

"I'm not much on the music, but I like the cinema," Crabbe said. It was Draco's turn to whip his head around and gape at his friend. "My aunt took me to see this one movie about these aliens in outer space. They had three mouths, and they eat people. It was really cool."

"Oh, that's nice," Persephone said with a rather forced smile.

"I like telephones," Daphne said.

"What's so great about a telephone?" Pansy said irritably.

Draco was still gaping at Crabbe. "Your father let you go to a Muggle cinema?"

Crabbe had been smiling, but his face darkened at Draco's question. "What he doesn't know won't kill him," he muttered. Draco doubted he would discuss it further.

"I think they're rather seductive," Daphne was saying. "Something about the shape of them and having the voice right in your ear."

"Who on earth do you call?"

Draco wanted to ask what a telephone was, but he felt stupid, even Pansy seemed to know. He wondered if all the rest of them just feigned ignorance about Muggle world, and he was the only one truly ignorant. Last year he would have raked them over the coals for discussing Muggle bands, a part of his brain was still protesting very loudly. Persephone's triumphant smile bothered him, but he simply could not work up the energy to be derisive. It hardly seemed important. Pansy was showing the appropriate disdain, but he had the horrible feeling that he and she were a dying breed.

It also seemed strange to him that Persephone could get them to admit these things so easily, but then she had a way with people. She had won over the first and second years by installing a Friday evening study group for them in the Slytherin common room. Draco suspected that she enjoyed mothering them. She had even recruited some of the sixth and seventh year students to help her with it. He had too much homework of his own to be a useful tutor, but he sat at the common room tables with them as a show of support.

o

* * *

o

"Have you talked to him?" Draco asked, when he and Persephone were walking between classes later.

"I mentioned it to him, but I think it would be better if you spoke to him yourself."

"Are you mad?" Draco said. "He hates me."

"He doesn't hate you," Persephone assured him. "Over all I think he's rather fond of you."

"You are mad," said Draco, trying to keep his voice controlled.

"Maybe a little," she said with a small laugh. "But is it so hard to believe?"

"Yes, what with the long history of mutual loathing and curses in the hall."

"Wait, are you talking about Harry?"

"Of course, I'm talking about Harry. Who are you talking about?"

"Se-Oliver."

"Oh, well, that makes a little more sense," Draco admitted. "And thank you. But have you talked to Potter yet?"

"No, not yet," she said quietly.

"Persephone-" he began.

"Well, we keep getting interrupted," she explained.

"Bloody Half-wit Hufflepuff!"

They looked around to see two third year Slytherin boys, facing off against a nervous looking Hufflepuff boy. A small crowd of their peers was circled round and looked as though they were expecting a fight. "Oh, dear," Persephone murmured.

"I'm sorry," the Hufflepuff whimpered. "I tripped."

"Gaw, you're such a worthless klutz," the first Slytherin boy said acidly.

Draco blinked, and Persephone had her arm around the shoulders the Hufflepuff boy. "Lance, Merlin, is that anyway to speak to one of my friends?" she said reprovingly.

The boys hesitated, looking at each other uncertainly. Merlin glanced over at Draco and slid his wand back into his robes. "He's not your friend," Lance balked. "Bet you don't even know his name."

Persephone looked down at the Hufflepuff boy. "What's your name then?"

"It's Harry," said the Hufflepuff nervously.

Persephone laughed, and Harry turned pink. "Is it really? Oh, I like that. Do you want to be my friend, Harry?"

"Um, sure."

"Good. So Harry and I are friends now, and I don't like people talking to my friends that way. You understand, Lance?"

Lance did not like being reproved by a sixth year girl anymore than any third year boy would, but he flicked his eyes across the crowd and Draco's prefect badge and back to Persephone. "Forget it," he grunted and snatched up his dropped book bag. He stalked off, and Merlin followed along behind him.

"Get to class," Draco told the bystanders, and they scattered.

"Uh, thanks," the Hufflepuff Harry said.

"You're name's really Harry?" Persephone asked again. "After Harry Potter?"

"Yeah, I think so," the boy said, going pink again.

"I think that's fantastic," Persephone said with another laugh. "I really would like to be friends, Harry, so don't be a stranger. Best be off to class now, and do try to forgive Lance he's a little stressed out these days."

"Okay, sure," Harry said when she released him. "It was a bit my fault, anyway. See you around."

"Bit stressed out?" Draco asked as she rejoined him.

"Well, Lance's sister is in St. Mungo's with something rather nasty," Persephone explained in a sobered voice. "She's touch and go right now, and he's very worried. Couple that with all the regular pressures of being thirteen, and well…"

"Everyone's a bit tense these days," Draco said. "Fights were always breaking out in the halls last year, but we were talking about why you haven't talked to Harry. The other Harry."

Persephone gave a helpless sigh. "I'm getting the impression that he doesn't really want to talk to me. I think I'm making him anxious. I think maybe, if I just did like you and G. and took my time, let Harry get to know me a little and see that I'm not trying to hurt him."

"Why would he think you're trying to hurt him?"

"I don't know. Poor thing's been through a lot," Persephone said. "He's bound to be a little paranoid."

Draco could understand paranoia, but he had the strong feeling Persephone was going about it all wrong. "This isn't like my problem. I'm trying to make up for six years of abuse. It's just going to get harder to explain the longer you put it off."

o

* * *

o

Draco had once read a book on magical theory called The Law of Equivalent Exchange. That is to say he had started to read it, but the whole idea was so nonsensical, and the text so dry, that he had not finished. The basic idea of Equivalent Exchange was that for anything gained something of equal value must be given up. The idea had some basis in the fact it was easier to transfigure something into something else of roughly the same size and mass. But as a general principle it had to be nonsense because otherwise no one could ever gain wealth or be able to make decisions.

It was the Equivalent rather than the Exchange part that bothered Draco. He had watched his father do business enough to know that a good deal was one where you walked away from the table with more than you had brought to it. He also knew from experience, though he had been in denial through much of his youth, that every decision involved Opportunity Cost.

The irritating nonsense of Equivalent Exchange seemed to have the upper hand at the beginning of his Potions Class. Because the ingredients for a _Patafacere Potion_ were so expensive, they were only allotted enough Graphorn horn and amber gris to make the amount of potion to fill the vial they would turn in for a grade at the end of class. Therefore to steal a useful amount of the potion Draco was going to have to employ Opportunity Cost.

He always took great care with his potion making, but he was particularly focused as he stirred his cauldron exactly three times clockwise and seven counterclockwise. He had researched the _Patafacere Potion_ thoroughly in advance and knew that the finished result should have a reddish golden color and a viscosity slightly higher than blood and lower than syrup. It should look exactly like the vial of less valuable fluid secreted away in his robe pocket.

On reflection, he wished that he had not asked Persephone to speak to Snape on his behalf. The only change in Professor Snape's behavior was that he was now spending a good deal of time watching Draco with a less than fond expression, instead of avoiding looking at him as he had done in the previous classes. Draco carefully filled his vial with the finished potion, taking his time and trying hard not to return Snape's gaze. The first students approached Snape's desk to deposit their filled vials and obstruct his view. When Pansy stood to take her finished potion up, Draco twisted in his seat to stand and made the switch.

It was quite clear to Draco that the knowledge of whether or not his mother was trying to poison him was more valuable than the Opportunity Cost of a single day's grade in Potions. He was equally certain than the cost of looking a little clumsy in front of his classmates would not be nearly as great as the cost if Snape caught him stealing.

He held the vial lightly between two fingers, twirling it, and stood a little too closely behind Padma Patil. Padma set her vial on Snape's desk. She turned around smartly and slammed into Draco, who dropped the vial. It shattered on the stone floor, splattering reddish gold liquid on the shoes of everyone standing nearby. "Damn it, Patil," Draco swore.

Padma looked appropriately indignant.

"You will watch your language in the classroom," Snape snapped. "And if you had held that vial more carefully, you might have saved your grade on this assignment."

"But, sir-" Pansy began. Snape silenced her with a look.

"It will be a zero for today, Mr. Malfoy." Draco hung his head, trying to focus on the embarrassment he was genuinely feeling and not the sense of triumph underneath it. "And you will see me after class." _Damn it._

Several of the students other than Pansy had looks of surprises on their faces. They had never heard Snape criticize Draco in class before. Draco would have been rather miserable about it, even if he had not been worried Snape was going to find the potion vial in his pocket. He caught sight of Hermione, chatting with Potter and Longbottom on the far side of the room. They seemed to have missed the entire incident, which was just as well. The bell rang and the room cleared of students.

"My office," Snape said and swept into the other room.

Draco followed him with a mixture of apprehension, anticipation, and irritation. There was a subtle shift in Snape's body language as he closed the office door, and Draco's heart jumped. "Have a seat," Snape told him.

Draco remained standing. His legs were tensed. "Are you angry with me, sir?"

Snape raised an eyebrow, his face impassive. "Should I be?" Professor Snape gave off the impression of being very tall. Draco had at least half an inch on him, but he still got the feeling that Snape was towering over him.

"I don't see _why_," Draco whined, suddenly feeling eleven. "_I brought her back_. I thought you'd be happy."

Snape expression softened, but Draco still found it unreadable. "I am glad to have her back. But Persephone refuses to tell me where she has been or who is responsible for her disappearance. I was hoping you could enlighten me."

Draco felt a pit grow in his stomach. "No sir, I can't."

Snape's expression hardened, his black eyes boring into Draco's. "Can't or won't?"

"Can't, I promised," Draco lied weakly.

"I do not care about your promises," Snape snarled taking a step forward. Draco had to fight the instinct to cringe. He had seen Professor Snape angry before, but he was not used to being the target of that anger. "This is not some child's game, Mr. Malfoy. Persephone has been missing for twenty-one years. She vanished without a clue, without a reason. I have searched every inch of England-" _Obviously not every inch_, said a snide little voice in the back of Draco's mind. "-followed every lead to its dead end, and still lack explanation. Where was she?"

"What does it matter?" Draco said. He felt tired. "She's safe now."

"How can I know that, if I don't know what happened in the first place?" There was the slightest crack in his voice. _Oh,_ Draco thought, and the very small, quiet part of his mind that had wondered if Persephone might be his princess died completely. However strange and disturbing, the connection between her and his professor was deep and older than Draco. _Oh, I see. I rescued your princess. Naturally you're angry, but you know that anger is childish and selfish._ Sure enough, Snape looked away from him and paced back to his desk. When he turned around again, he had composed himself. "Sit down, Mr. Malfoy."

This time Draco did sit. He felt drained, almost sleepy, but he did not dare relax. The game was not over until the Snitch was caught. He realized he was looking at the floor and forced himself to meet Snape's steady gaze.

When Snape spoke again, his tone was nearly conversational. "I don't suppose at any point during your long lost summer you saw your father?"

Draco felt a muscle twitch in his cheek. "No, sir."

"Hmph." Snape perched himself on the edge of his desk and studied Draco. Draco focused on the spot just under Snape's eyes, instinctively avoiding direct eye contact. "Let me show you something," said Snape.

Draco leaned forward, curious in spite of himself, and watched Snape roll back his left sleeve revealing the tattoo of a skull and serpent. The Dark Mark. The mark of a Death Eater.

Draco's legs jerked, pushing him back into the chair before he remembered that it would be better not to show panic. But how could he feel anything other than the panic seizing up his muscles, constricting his blood vessels? How could he have misjudged Professor Snape so completely? He had been so sure that Snape was loyal to the Ministry, so sure Snape would protect him. There was no way he could run. The door was closed, possibly locked, and trying would only expose his back to Snape. What was Snape going to do to him? Was he ordered to kill him? Wipe his memory? Take him back to Voldemort?

Snape's relentless black eyes were studying him as though he was a potion experiment that had just done something interesting. Draco gripped the chair in an attempt to get his mutinous body to stop shaking. He was slowly becoming aware how wide his eyes had gone.

"Why did you run away from the manor?"

Draco forced himself to take a normal breath. _Questions, information, lie, you can talk your way out of this_. But what lies were the right ones? "I—Persephone—" he stammered. He could feel his heart beat in his throat now. Horrible thoughts emerging. Had she meant to give him up to Snape like this? Had he persuaded her to join her old Slytherin friends? Or was he lying to her too? Had Draco led them both into the dragon's lair? Had Snape been one of the faces hidden by a Death Eater's hood in the cavern below the manor? Had he watched the death of Evra Tome? Participated in it?

"You found her in the manor. The attic she was in. It was yours."

Draco bit back a whimper. He wished Snape would blink. Blink. _Occlumens_, _idiot,_ _occlumens_, _break eye contact_, but he did not dare look away. He blinked very slowly, closing his eyes for a fraction of a second so he could begin a mental barrier. _He still cares_, Draco thought furiously. _She's still his princess. Use that somehow. You have to use it. _

"Is _he _there?"

Draco felt confusion cut through his fear. "I don't-" Who did Snape mean? His father or Voldemort? And why didn't he already know? Could he blame Voldemort? Divide them?

"Was it—was it Lucius?"

"No," Draco said, meeting Snape's eyes directly, surprised by the sudden change in tone both Snape's and his own.

Snape seemed to collapse. He broke eye contact on his own and put his head in hand. Black hair curtained his face. "Thank God," he muttered in a rather piteous tone.

Draco forced himself to breath normally. He tried to focus on his _Occlumency_ and sort out what was going on. Why had Snape bothered to teach him something that would help him resist Lord Voldemort? Was Snape out of favor with the Dark Lord?

Snape brought his head up and saw Draco watching him. He had the faintest trace of a humorless smile. "Ugly, isn't it?" he said, indicating the tattoo.

Draco neither answered nor nodded.

"Show me your forearm, Draco."

Draco rolled back his sleeve obediently. Snape approached him, took his arm in hand and rubbed his thumb on the unblemished skin of Draco's forearm as though there might be something hidden underneath. Satisfied Snape dropped his arm, and Draco pulled his sleeve back over it.

Snape had called Draco by his given name once last year. It had been in his office then too. Right after the incident with the Bludger. Snape had asked about Draco's father then too, and Draco had spilled all his anxieties. It had been in those months after Lucius's escape from Azkaban and before he had appeared that Christmas Eve at the manor. He had honestly been worried and ignorant, filled with feelings of abandonment, haunted by phantoms of his father's expectations. Frustrated to tears, because he had visited his father in prison and told him about his six 'O's, hoping for praise and only receiving the mild admonition that he had once again failed to best Granger. He had told Snape he feared never living up to his father's expectations.

Snape had given Draco a wryly-sympathetic grin. _You are like Lucius in many ways, Draco, but you are not your father._ Draco had thought at the time that Snape was telling him he would not be able to live up to his father's example. Now he realized, Snape must have known of Lucius's five 'O's and that Draco had already surpassed him.

"Why do you wear the Dark Mark, sir?" Draco managed, finding his voice at last.

"Because a long time ago I lost something, and I thought the Dark Lord could help me find it," Snape said with a sad smile. "And because all my friends were wearing one. The Dark Lord burns it on with a black fire and a sort of branding iron like one would use on cattle. The process was extremely painful, and it still burns."

Draco felt ill. He remembered a small fire behind Lord Voldemort in the cavern. There had been a metal rod poking out of it. He had not given much consideration to it at the time. "Why are you telling me this?"

"Don't act stupid," Snape spat, the smile vanishing. "There was a librarian who disappeared the same day you left home. A witch named Evra Tome. Do you know what happened to her?"

"No," Draco said, shaking his head so he would not have to look Snape in the eye. Guilt bubbled inside him, but a confession would not save her now.

"Poor Evra," Snape said blandly. Draco's hand twitched, but he refused to react more. Perhaps Snape was baiting him. "You may go, Mr. Malfoy."

Draco looked up, disbelieving. Slowly, he pushed himself out of the chair.

"And you will be receiving a detention."

"Detention?" Draco gaped. "For what?"

"For back talking to a member of the staff. Mr. Filch heard your Squib comment. You will meet him this evening in the trophy room after Quidditch practice, and I suggest you undertake whatever task he has for you with the appropriate attitude and respect. It is not wise for someone in your position to burn any more bridges."

Draco wanted to protest but bit his tongue.

"I have given you every opportunities that I can, Mr. Malfoy," said Snape. "There will be no more second chances. I will not hesitate to expel you if you give me any reason to do so, and I think you realize what that will mean."

Draco nodded numbly and shuffled towards the door.

"All that being said," Snape said softly. "I am grateful."

o

* * *

**N.B.** The term Equivalent Exchange is borrowed from the anime "Full Metal Alchemist" as is the paraphrased law, but the concept is much older than the show. It's an awesome show, even if Draco does snub the underlying concept.

_Eleanor Rigby_ is a famous song by the Beatles. Duh.

_Dance Magic_ is from the film The Labyrinth and written and sung by David Bowie…what wizard band could resist doing a cover?


	9. The Forum

**Disclaimer:** This story is based on the Harry Potter novels written by J.K. Rowling. All characters created by J.K. Rowling are owned by J.K. Rowling. The few characters created by me (i.e. Persephone, Hotchet, Kagome…) belong to me, but are available for use in other fics as long as I get credited as their creator. None of us are making any money off this and no infringement is intended.

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**Level 2.6: The Forum for the Discussion of Current Events**

"What happened?" Persephone asked anxiously a few minutes later when Draco collapsed onto the common room sofa.

"He gave me detention," Draco told her.

"For what?" She looked incredulous, and Draco took some comfort in her indignation.

"For telling off Filch," he said, and a horrible thought struck him. "Pro-_Oliver _does know we're not dating doesn't he?"

"I-" Persephone paused. "Well, I would assume so. I mean. You're a bit young for me."

Draco covered his face in his hands. Why did things have to be so complicated?

Persephone leaned forward so Draco could hear her whisper. "Did you get it?"

It took him a moment to remember the potion in his pocket. He pulled it out and placed it in her hand. She sent him upstairs to get the snack box, and they found some abandoned corner of the dungeon to perform their tests. Persephone used a dropper to place small amounts of potion on each sweet.

He had to tell her. "He has the Dark Mark," he said in a low voice.

She looked up at him. "Severus you mean? Yes, he showed me." Her expression was sad and thoughtful. She squeezed her eyes shut for a moment, before opening them again and continuing with the testing.

"Why didn't you tell me?"

Persephone dipped the dropper back into the vial. "I didn't tell him your secrets," she said simply. "I'm a little surprised he showed you, but then—well, no I'm not. He wants to warn you, not to make the same mistake he did."

"I'm not taking the mark," Draco said sharply.

"I never thought Lucius would have taken it," Persephone said softly.

"I'm not my father," he said.

"No, no, of course you're not."

It was little relief to discover that his mother had not in fact attempted to poison him. As a sort of anticlimactic celebration, he and Persephone split the remaining half of one of the scones before dropping the rest into a bin.

He was distracted during Quidditch practice, though he paid enough attention to see that the new Chasers were doing well. Chesann was scoring high points with Jonathan. From the look he was giving her, Draco would not be surprised if Captain Weatherby proposed before the year was out.

Filch was positively gleeful to have Draco at his mercy that evening and had him scrub every nasty thing he could think of, mainly bed pans and toilets, Muggle style. Draco managed to bite his tongue, though this sometimes required literal physical biting, and entertained himself with all the nasty things he would say and do to Filch if the opportunity ever arose. His fantasy Hermione tried to distract him, but he sent her away again.

Draco returned to the dorm exhausted and filthy. He spent well over an hour in the bath before he felt clean enough to go to bed. He overslept the next morning, missing breakfast and only just making it to class on time. He watched Hermione during Charms. Her bushy hair next to Potter's black made him think of Persephone and wonder what it must have been like for Professor Snape. How would it feel to spend all year building up the courage to ask her to the dance and have her say yes, then vanish the same day without a word or explanation? He knew it would make him a little crazy, and he wasn't even in love with Hermione.

As frustrated as he was with Snape's ire at him, he could not help but understand it. This did not make him feel better, only gave him another source of guilt.

When Astronomy came, he arrived first, early, eager to see Hermione and make another feeble attempt at conversation. He waited for an extremely long ten minutes, trying to figure out what he would say to her when she did arrive. He wanted to talk to her so badly it ached, but she hardly glanced at him when she sat down. He waited for her to settle in before speaking.

"I'm glad we're done with those doors. I think conjuring is going to be a lot more interesting," he said amicably.

"Stop it," Hermione said sharply.

"Stop what?"

"Whatever you're doing," she said irritably. "Just stop it."

"I'm just talking," he said defensively.

"Well, stop it!" she hissed and refused to look at him for the rest of the class.

An acidic retort formed on his tongue, but he let it burn there and turned back to his telescope.

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He sat again with Persephone's Friday study group, trying to read up on summoning charms, and outlined his essay for Snape so that it was particularly brilliant. His table was filled with second year girls who occasionally worked up the courage to ask him questions. Charles Bulstrode was patiently letting Goyle help him with Transfiguration at another table. Victoria Dey had slackened her leash on Thomas enough to let him sit with the other first years. She was perched on the nearby couch, taking notes from her Charms text. Indigo and Laurel, Nott's sixth year girlfriend, had another table. The second year boys at Persephone's table were speaking rather loudly.

"Can you believe he had never heard of the Floo Network? I told him it was a broomstick club."

A second boy laughed. "Well, what do you expect from a Mudblood like Hastings?"

Draco could see Persephone's previously sunny demeanor go stormy. "You think it's funny, do you?" she bit at them loudly, causing several people at other tables to look her way. "You ever think what it's like for them? Torn out of everything they know and expected to do just as well as all the students around them who had been brought up like wizards! How would you like it if you were suddenly stuck in Muggle school where you didn't know anyone and had to get by? Wouldn't you be hoping someone would take pity on you and help you find your way? Or maybe you'd like them to laugh their heads off at you while _you_ try to figure out the water fountain and the telephone?"

"If I had to go to Muggle school, I'd die of shame," the boy shot back. "If the Mudbloods feel so lost, they should stick with their own kind. It's not my responsibility to make sure they can tie their shoes."

"Fine," Persephone said, slamming her book shut. "Tie your own shoes."

The other boys at the table realized she was leaving. "Don't go." "Please, I've got another question."

"No," Persephone said haughtily. "I'm far too upset by your language to do homework. I'm going upstairs. Victoria?"

Victoria hopped up as though waiting for the summons and imperiously followed Persephone as they stalked off to the girls dorm.

The boy sitting beside the one who had upset Persephone whacked his friend on the shoulder. "What did you upset her for?"

"It's not my fault!" he protested.

Indigo caught Draco's eye. "What was that all about?" she asked. He saw several of the stunned faces had turned to him. He shrugged and went back to his homework.

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Draco spent most of Saturday in the library, researching for Defense Against the Dark Arts. He returned to the Slytherin common room during dinner, hoping to have it to himself to study. Nothing could have prepared him for the scene that welcomed him. Blue bubbles filled the air, color-changing balloons were tied to the back of the chairs, and phantom images of the Weird Sisters were playing in the corner next to a Projecting Victrola. There were a few people dancing in the clear spaces.

Pansy detached herself from her cluster and crossed the room to him. "What is this?" he asked, as someone let lose a cracker.

"It's a birthday party," Pansy said, slipping her arm through his.

"For who?"

"For all the September birthdays. We thought it would be simpler to have one party each month, rather than let everyone do their individual thing. I think it's good to do something fun for a change, don't you?"

"Sure," Draco said with a shrug.

"I was about to send someone to fetch you," she said lightly. "Us prefects should be around to chaperon."

"Where did all this come from?"

"Well, Goody Filch had the balloons. And one of the fifth years had the Victrola, and they're using one of my records. And Pea left a note for the House Elves, requesting the cake." She pointed to a large white frosted sheet cake. "All the fourth years are off nicking extra food from the dinner table."

"Makes it a little hard on people trying to study," he said.

"Oh lighten up, Draco," Pansy chided. "Put the book down for a bit and come dance with me."

"I don't feel like dancing," Draco said honestly.

"Well, have some cake then," Pansy said, snatching his bag away. "You might want to say hi to Gregory and Vincent while you're at it."

"Why?" Draco said, then he swore softly. "I forgot." His best friends were both September birthdays, born three days apart. They often had joint parties.

Pansy tisked and escorted him towards the cluster of seventh years. He wished Crabbe and Goyle happy birthday and promised them a rain check on their presents. It made him feel even worse that he doubted he could ever get around to honoring it. He had been raised to think of poverty as something that resulted from moral decay and poor judgment. The idea that people could become poor from circumstances beyond their control or even for reasons that were possibly noble was new and disturbing.

He settled into one of the high backed chairs with a slice of cake so that he could "chaperon", which judging from the way Nott was dancing with Laurel, he might need to do at some point. The fourth years returned with their plunder and the common room seemed to become twice as crowded.

"Oh, come on, Draco, dance with me!" Pansy pleaded again a half-hour later. Draco shook his head. "I give up! Jonathan, come." She grabbed Weatherby and dragged him to the dance floor.

Draco spotted Persephone on the far side of the room. She was standing in a small group of laughing people, and her hand was on Blaise's arm. She crooked her finger, Zabini bent down so that she could whisper something in his ear. Draco felt a surge of something similar to jealousy. Jealousy was an emotion he knew very well, and this was something slightly different. He did not want Persephone. He just did not want any of the other Slytherin boys after her. If he had known more about siblings, he might have recognized it as a big brotherly protectiveness, but at length he decided he was feeling jealous for Snape, which was so strange that he did not want to think about it anymore.

He tried reading his Dark Arts text, but it was a losing battle.

Victoria Dey sat in one of the high-backed chairs near his. She was composing a letter and looking very determined not to enjoy herself, though she often looked up to gaze darkly at the partiers. "They're less tense than usual," she said at length. Draco decided she was talking to him since there was no one else in the immediate area. "I don't think I've ever seen them this relaxed."

He thought it a curious thing for her to say at first, but when he thought about it he admitted she was on to something. Victoria had only been able to watch the Slytherin students for the past two years, and the tension between the houses and inside Slytherin House itself had been palpable. Draco however remembered them before Voldemort's return and had seen them far less tense. No doubt the majority of the students were enjoying themselves, but they exercised a self-restraint that seemed unusual for unsupervised teenagers, as though they expected Snape or McGonagall to burst through the doors at any moment.

"What are you writing?" he asked, giving up on his book.

"A report for my father," Victoria told him.

"A report?"

She nodded once. "He requires that I send him a weekly report."

Draco shifted in his chair. "On what?"

"What sort of marks Thomas and I are getting, our activities, what we eat, and anything else I think he might find of interest."

Draco studied her stony features, as though seeing her for the first time. "Have you ever written anything about me in your reports?" he asked. Victoria gave another short nodded, not looking up from her parchment. "Like what?"

"I told him you missed the train," she said.

Draco felt his pulse quicken. Had he found his spy? Victoria did always seem to be watching everyone, and he now knew her father was a Death Eater. It did surprise him that she would admit it so openly. He had always assumed Victoria, who was generally silent, to be tightlipped as well, but if she was willing to talk… "Have you ever written him anything about my eating habits?"

If he had not known better, he would have sworn a flicker of confusion passed over her face. "No," she said looking up. Her large eyes rested on him.

"Victoria," he said, deciding it was worth a shot. "If I asked you, would you leave me out of your reports?"

She shrugged and looked back down. "As you wish."

Persephone appeared and sat down on the arm of Draco's chair. "Hello, Draco, Victoria. Have you had any cake?"

"My father does not approve of sweets," Victoria said.

"I've had some, thanks," Draco said. "Victoria was just telling me about the weekly reports she writes to her father."

The flicker of surprise that passed over Persephone's face was far more obvious and readable and told Draco this was news to her. "Um, Victoria, do you think it's possible you could leave me out of your reports?" Persephone asked sweetly.

Victoria glanced up at Persephone. If Draco was getting any better at reading her, he would say she was amused. "As you wish," she said.

Persephone beamed at her. "Thanks. Draco, why don't you go dance with Pansy? Jonathan's looking tired." He gave her an icy glare. "Or not. You know, I think I'm going to request a chocolate cake next month."

"Was this your idea?" Draco asked, indicating the balloons.

"No, it was Laurel and Anastia's. But I encouraged them to go through with it. I think you were right when you said everyone was tense. I thought it might help them relax, and I wanted to make things up with Lance. He's a September birthday. That's why I ordered the white cake. He prefers it."

"Can I speak with you out in the hall?"

"Sure," she said. "I'll meet you in a minute. I think someone needs to change the record. The lute player has started improvising." She skipped off, and Draco made his way out of the common room. Which was a little easier said than done, Daphne tried to drag him to meet someone or other, and Charles Bulstrode stopped him to complain that the other prefects were not doing enough to stop the third years from sneaking bits of Fizzing Whizzbees into the punch. He still managed to make it out of the room several minutes before Persephone.

He was about to give up and go back in to find her when the stone wall swung open. Persephone appeared and skipped over to him. Draco frowned. She was actually skipping.

"Don't you think you're over doing it?"

She looked at his curiously. "What?"

"The Happy Act."

"I'm not acting. I am happy."

"Come off it."

"I am."

"You can't be."

"Why not?"

"Because I'm miserable." He folded his arms over his chest and rested his back against the stone wall. "Doesn't it make you sad knowing you'll never see your parents again? Never sleep in your own bed? Wondering how many days are left before You-Know-Who finds you out?"

Persephone folded her arms and stood within a couple feet of him. Her silver eyes looked into his blue-grey ones. "Of course it does. I've cried myself to sleep at night thinking about it. But I'm alive, Draco. We're alive." She reached out and took his face in her hands. "We can touch. We can taste. We can smell. And if you don't think those are happy things, then try going without them for twenty years. Life…is intoxicating. I've been dead for a very long time, and now I'm not."

He took her hands in his and pulled them away from his face. "I think I need more than not being dead to make me happy."

"You've got friends here."

"Friends I can't trust."

"And how do you know you can't trust them?"

"I can't trust anyone."

"You can trust me," she said, playing her thumb across his fingers.

"You're different."

"How?"

"You owe me."

"And they don't?"

He tucked back a piece of silver hair that had crept out of the band attempting to control it. "Where'd you get that? I can't picture _Oliver_ buying hair bands."

"Pansy gave it to me. She said she didn't wear them anymore."

Draco felt a small smile tug the corner of his mouth. "Why are people so nice to you? Generally that is…with obvious exceptions."

Persephone shrugged in a cute sort of way, but then she probably sneezed and put on her socks in cute ways. "I try to be nice to them for starters."

His dry humor swam up. "If I've got to be nice, I don't think it's worth it. I don't like people that much."

She got the joke and smiled, but answered as though he had been serious. "People are always worth it. That's something else you figure out when you have to go so long with out them. I love people. I want to surround myself with them, bask in them. I want to drink them up with all their problems and triumphs and idiosyncrasies."

"Oh, so we're using big words now?"

She stuck her tongue out at him. "Why are you so determined to be miserable?"

"What choice do I have?"

"You always have a choice. I could let my sadness swallow me if I wanted, but I choose to be happy."

"Fine, be happy," he said, not seeing the point in arguing. "But could you try to remember that you're not supposed to draw attention to yourself. Organizing large parties is not a good way to avoid sticking out."

"Oh, I wasn't really thinking about that," she said.

Draco bit back an obvious retort. "It's not a big deal, I suppose, but could you try to keep a low profile. For me? Please?"

"Okay, I'll try. We better get back before people start looking for us."

"Right, you go first. I'll be along in a minute."

The party died out slowly. Draco recruited the other prefects to shoo everyone out of the common room around midnight and left the clean up for the House Elves. Persephone insisted on writing them a thank you note for the cake and managed to talk a few bemused people into signing it.

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After Quidditch practice the following afternoon, Draco stretched out on his favorite leather couch in the common room, which was far more peaceful than it had been the night before, to read his Dark Arts text. He was well engrossed in the chapter on shielding spells, when he caught a flash of silver out of the corner of his eye.

"Where are you going?" he asked, and Persephone paused. He gestured for her to come closer, and she did, coming to rest on the arm of the couch.

"Well, Hadassah wanted me to check out the Transfiguration Club, and then Arlen wanted to show me something down by the lake—I do hope it's not the squid—and I told Charles I'd do something for him, so I need to…what?"

"Were you this _social _at your old school?"

She laughed, and Draco moved his feet aside so she could sit down. "No, I was a bit swotty actually."

Draco raised his eyebrows. "You? Swotty? Only time I ever see you open a book is on Friday. Come to think of it, how are you keeping up with your studies? You're taking six classes. How are you managing to get all you homework done?"

"You sound like Papa."

"He was always getting onto you for neglecting your studies?"

"No, but he is always getting onto James about this, that, or the other."

"Was."

"Pardon?"

"I'm correcting your verb tense," Draco said and wished he had not as the laughter drained out of her eyes, leaving them distant.

"I thought it would help the disguise better if I stayed in the habit of…"

"No, it's okay, you're perfectly right," he said quickly. "So you were really swotty at your old school? Not into all these social activities."

"Homework was the main social activity," she said, allowing herself to be distracted and smiling again. "I couldn't count the number of hours Severus and I sat at that table with Lucius and Narci just doing homework. And here…just talking about things, Lucius liked that spot you're in, though I don't think I ever saw him put his feet on the couch."

"Of course not, Narci wouldn't stand for it."

Persephone laid her head and arm on the back of the couch, looking nostalgic. "Lucius wouldn't have been able to do half the stuff he did with out Narci. She managed him, made sure he got to his clubs on time and got assignments done. Do you know she even started planning his meals?"

"She planned his meals?" Draco repeated incredulously.

"Elle a fait, she had read some dieting book and got all obsessive about making sure he was properly nourished. I remember one evening, the House Elves had only put out one vegetable for dinner, and it was a little scary. She was absolutely livid. I think Lucius thought it was funny."

"He would," Draco said. It was so unfair. His parents had always given Draco the impression that his father had managed all his achievements purely through his own hard work and cleverness. _Well, I might do a little better if I had my own personal assistant_, Draco thought, but he winced at the idea of Pansy planning his meals.

"I wonder if she still picks out his clothes," Persephone said with a laugh.

"What do you mean _still_?"

"Lucius is the only boy I never knew who didn't mind letting girls dress him. Not like that," she added at Draco's horrified expression. "I mean pick things out for him. It was wonderful. He was like this big doll. He'd change and come out and model for us. Severus thought we were all mad."

Draco nodded slowly, thinking the same thing. Still it was a guilty pleasure to hear Persephone talk about them. Bittersweet to think of them as happy and occupying the same rooms he did. "Speaking of family," he said in an even lower voice than usual. "Have you talked to Harry yet?"

"Oh," she looked chastened. "No, not yet."

"Persephone-"

"I know. I will. Things have just been busy."

"They haven't been that busy." Draco frowned and sat up a little straighter. "Why do you keep putting it off?"

"I'm not."

"You are."

Persephone looked down, playing with her hands. "I'm just nervous, I guess. What if he doesn't believe me?"

"He will."

"But what if he doesn't like me?"

"He will," Draco said, giving her a reassuring smile.

"I guess you think I'm really silly, but you don't know what it was like with James. He was awful to me. He and Severus were always fighting, and there was so much tension between Gryffindor and Slytherin. I know Harry's not James, but he looks just like him. And he doesn't like Severus either." Draco bumped his knee against hers as a silent reminder. Some fourth years had just arrived through the portal. She lowered her voice. "It just stirs up a lot of anxiety. You would think some things would change after all this time, but there's still all this tension, and I'm so sick of it."

Just to prove that all the parts of his brain were not moving at the same speed, he asked her. "Why'd you jump all over poor Bardolf on Friday?"

"Because I don't like the term Mudblood. It's rude and uncalled for."

"You know I'm not sure I entirely believe you were really friends with my father," said Draco. "I can't image him putting up with you jumping down his throat like that."

"Oh, well, I never got onto Lucius," Persephone said, looking abashed. "I think I said something about not liking it once or twice, and he just laughed and said I was too delicate. I didn't want him to get mad at me, so I usually kept my mouth shut or changed the subject. I think he tried not to talk about it so much around me. It was easier not to talk about it. We had plenty of other things to talk about."

"Well, why don't you try not talking about it now?"

"Because maybe I should have talked about it," she said with a small waver of fever beneath her voice. "Maybe if I had gotten onto him a few times, he wouldn't have…maybe things would be different."

She looked close to tears again, so he took her arm. "It's egotistical to blame yourself. Even if you had said something, he had plenty of other friends telling him differently, and you should know how stubborn he is. It wouldn't have made a difference."

"You don't know that. It might have," she said stubbornly.

"Come on, don't you have Charms or something to go to?"

"Transfiguration."

"I'll come with you," he said standing up and pulling her up with him.

"Oh, okay," she said, looking a little surprised. It had the effect of drying her eyes, which was what he had being trying to do.

"I'm gonna go to the lake with you too," he said as they left the common room.

"How come?"

He shook his head with an air of long suffering. "Now you really should have learned your lesson about meeting people alone by the lake."

"You think Arlen's going to hurt me?" she said with a grin.

"Definitely not if I'm there," said Draco.

"What, are you my bodyguard?"

"Well, it's not like you can look after yourself."

"I can look after myself."

They had a nice session of petty bickering that was a lot more like teasing on their way to the Transfiguration Club meeting. Draco did an impression of Zabini by declining to participate and fixed himself over in a corner of the room to read his Dark Arts text. Afterwards Draco followed Persephone down to the lake. Arlen turned out to be a fair-haired Ravenclaw boy, who did not look at all happy to see Draco.

They said some polite words of greeting for Persephone's sake and began to circle the lake. Draco hung behind the other two, where he could avoid the conversation and keep an eye on them. If Persephone thought this was rude, she did not show it but chattered merrily to Arlen about Arithmancy. It soon became apparent, to Draco at least, that Arlen had not had anything specific in mind to show Persephone and was circling the lake in hopes of finding something excuse worthy. He responded to Persephone in short sentences, though Draco was sure Arlen would have said quite a bit more if he had not tagged along.

_Sorry, kid_, Draco thought, not feeling the least bit sorry. _You'll have to find another girl. This one's taken_. He made sure his body language conveyed the same message. He kept his arms crossed and made sure he was ready with an appropriately condescending look whenever Arlen glanced at him. When he wasn't glaring down Arlen, he was free to reflect upon the absurdity of what he was doing.

He was certainly there out of a desire to protect Persephone, and that in itself was absurd. He had no real connections to her other than their shared House. He was supposed to be dropping her off in Potter's hands and receiving the obligatory gratitude, not playing the role of an overprotective big brother. So she had been his father's friend, so what? He was mad at his father. He was bull guarding her for Snape, then, but the whole idea of his Potions Master consorting with a student was highly disturbing if not fundamentally wrong and absolutely disgusting. No, it was not his Potions Master he was guarding her for; it was the seventeen-year-old boy who had asked a girl to dance and never seen her again. Only that seventeen-year-old boy was still very much a part of his Potions Master.

_Will I be like that when I get old?_ Draco wondered. Bitter and lonely like Snape, or arrogant and cold like his father. _Or will I even manage to stay alive long enough to get old? Will the person I am now be an absolute stranger? When I look in the mirror will I see the wrinkles I've acquired or the smooth skinned boy I once was or some double image of both? Is time etched in stone, am I destined to be my future self or are there multiple selves I could potentially become. And I really wish I had someone other than myself to talk to about this._

He could picture presenting these questions to Crabbe and Goyle and watching the glazed looks come over their faces, he had tried it once or twice. Nott was another hopeless case. He would inevitably turn the conversation to the fairer sex and whether his opportunities to conquer them would diminish or improve with time. Zabini had some potential. Maybe Draco should give him another chance and attempt philosophical conversation, but then Zabini still unnerved him. He was too quiet.

He could talk to Persephone, but she was such a bubble. She would just try to cheer him up, and he wanted to be moody and pensive. He wanted to talk to Granger. She certainly would not try to make him feel better about anything. She would just tell him what she thought and make a thorough case for it.

_You could talk to me_, his fantasy Hermione said falling into step beside him.

_Yes, but you're a delusion of my fevered brain, therefore I would still be talking to myself._

_Never bothered you before._

_Well, it bothers me now, so please go away. _And she went away naturally, because she was after all only a delusion of his fevered brain.

Arlen finally found a clump of flowers that had some Potion applications, and he picked a handful for Persephone and himself. Draco just made a mental note of their location. A sudden stab of manliness did not want Crabbe and Goyle to see him returning to castle with handful of wildflowers unless he actually needed them for something.

Arlen took another lap around the lake to console himself, while Draco took Persephone back up to the castle. She gave Draco a long list of Arlen's fine qualities that led him to believe she had absolutely no idea that the boy had not brought her out to look at flowers.

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"These are very interesting questions," Albus Dumbledore said, indicating the stack of parchments before him. "I hope we have answered all the questions related to the chapter, but several of you chose to interpret the assignment in a much broader sense."

Draco watched Dumbledore warily. He wondered if he was the only one in the classroom worried that a broader interpretation of the assignment might negatively impact his grade. Nott did not look worried, nor did the wunderkind, so Draco tried to relax.

"The knowledge of appropriate countercurses and the skills to perform them are invaluable," Dumbledore continued. "However, as this is an advance class I would like to go beyond that and exercise your critical thinking skills. Therefore I am going to go through your questions, and we'll see what sort of answers your combined intellects can produce. I am not sure we will be able to cover them all today, but with any luck we will answer every one before the year ends.

"I think we'll start with this rather unique question. 'How do you defend against _Magna Secari_?' Does anyone know why I find this question interesting?" Granger's hand shot into the air, but Dumbledore looked in Draco's direction. Draco felt his muscles tighten. _Don't say my name. Don't you dare say my name, old man_. "Ms. Greengrass."

Draco turned to see Daphne drop her hand and cast a languid superior look in Hermione's direction. Her hair was dirty blonde today. "_Magna Secari_ isn't necessarily a dark arts spell. The _Secari _spell causes cuts to appear in the skin, and various qualifying words are used to manage the size of those cuts. It's commonly used in certain medical operations," so said the daughter of two St. Mungo's administrators.

"Couldn't it be used aggressively?" Potter asked. Draco felt a rush of gratitude that someone else brought up that point.

"Most certainly," Dumbledore said.

"How do you block it?" Seamus Finnigan asked.

"A simple Shield Charm would normally be sufficient," Granger said.

Draco felt himself blanch. _A simple Shield Charm?_ A simple Shield Charm could have saved Evra Tome. No. No, it wasn't that simple. "But what if there are multiple spell casters?" he found himself asking. "Would the Shield Charm hold?"

Dumbledore looked at him curiously, and Draco avoided his eyes. He did not want Dumbledore seeing…another thought stabbed him from the shadows of his mind. What if Snape had not taught him Occlumency to hide things from Voldemort? What if he had taught him so that could hide things from Dumbledore? Snape had warned him, but what if he had misinterpreted Snape's warning. What if Snape had told him to be careful to avoid expulsion because Voldemort needed him inside Hogwarts for some reason? Snape might have regrets, but he never said that he was not still working for Voldemort. He had the Dark Mark. There was a Death Eater at Hogwarts. Even if he had decided for some reason to spare Draco, he was a danger to Harry, and Draco needed Harry. He needed Harry to kill Voldemort. He had to tell Dumbledore. There was a Death Eater at Hogwarts.

He gradually came to realize that the conversation had continued without him. Dumbledore had said something about stronger Shielding Spells, and now the students were discussing the effectiveness of combined attacks and defenses. _After class then_, Draco told himself and tried to focus on the conversation. He took a lot of notes. Jotting down this and that, stealing glance at Potter and Granger to strengthen his resolve. Instead of moving to Draco's next question, Dumbledore went to the first question on the next parchment. "Do Zombies eat brains or is Dean just pulling my leg?"

"I didn't know you would read them out," Seamus Finnigan said with a flush as the rest of the class laughed.

They had a brief discussion of Zombies and another on Sirens and a longer discussion on what defines certain spells as "dark", before the bell rang. Draco took his time copying down the homework assignment and fumbled with his book bag until the room had cleared.

"Those were very interesting questions," Dumbledore spoke, causing Draco to jerk his head in his direction. The Headmaster was watching him from behind the teacher's desk. "I thought the next two on your list were far more to the point than the first. I'm curious what made you ask about Magna Secari."

"Just something I read this summer," Draco mumbled. _Do it for Evra. Tell Dumbledore about Snape. There's a Death Eater at Hogwarts. You have to tell him that Snape has the Dark Mark. If Snape is no longer connected to the Dark Lord, he'll surely have a good defense. Just tell Dumbledore about the mark._

"Is there something you want to say to me?" Dumbledore said, rather gently.

"No, sir," Draco said and slung his bag over his shoulder.

o

* * *

o

"I couldn't do it," he moaned later, when he slid onto the couch beside Persephone.

"Do what?"

"Tell Dumbledore about Oliver," Draco said softly. "We really should, you know. He should know what he has tattooed on his arm."

"He already knows," Persephone said. When Draco looked surprised, she laughed. "You really thought that he didn't? Oh, Draco. You thought Se-Oliver was still…? I'm not sure whether to be proud or disappointed in you."

Draco was having the same internal conflict, but it was very irritating of her to say it. "Why didn't you tell me? Why didn't _he_ tell me?"

"He's not sure which side you're on," Persephone said simply. Draco opened his mouth to retort, but closed it again. "If you told him where you found me, I think he would, but right now he just has my word that you not working for…well, you know who."

"Fear of the name properly sunk in now?" Draco asked.

Persephone wrinkled her nose. "I have no problem saying Voldemort." She spit the name a little. "I was trying to be discreet." Because of course, there were people in the room, watching, listening. Not close, but they were always there.

"We need a better discreet word for him," Draco said.

"Oh, well, speaking of…as in I want to completely change the subject and ask your opinion on something…" She pulled out a ratty looking folder stuffed with parchments. "Victoria and I wrote up some club proposals. I don't know Sinistra, but you've got her. So I thought you might know the best way to word things for her."

"You're starting clubs?" he said, taking the folder in hand. "Didn't we have a talk about not drawing attention to yourself?"

"They're just clubs, Draco," she said. "Normal students do them." Draco fished through the parchments, while Persephone summed them up. "That one's just an extension of the study group we've been doing on Fridays, and the Dueling Club was Victoria's idea…Nicholas said they tried to start one a few years back, but it was a complete joke. Oh, and this one's just my sneaky way of getting filled in on recent history."

"The Dueling Club was fun," Draco said. "Would be nice to see it done properly though. It'll need staff supervision. Who did you have in mind to…why'd I even ask that question… Why'd you restrict it to third through fifth years? That's no fair."

"Because, first and second years don't have any business pointing their wands at each other, and I want sixth and seventh years at the Forum," she said.

"The Forum for the Discussion of Current Events is very dry, clunky name, you know. If you want people to come, you should name it something catchier."

"I think it's alright," she said. "Describes what it is, doesn't it?"

"Have it your way." Draco saw a sentence that bothered him and reached for his ink and quill. "Why don't you change this? I want to do the Dueling Club instead."

"Oh, no, I want you to come to the Forum!" she said pleadingly. "More people will show if they think you're backing me up."

"Ah, so you're using me."

"Of course I'm using you," she said. "That's what friends do with each other. Narci used to get me to ask the teachers for things. She said they favored me. Lu used me to practice Charms, and you're using me to get to Harry right? So it's all fair."

He blinked at her, several surprised reactions competing. "Lu?" won.

"I'm trying to be discreet."

Draco laughed a short, barking laugh. "He'd kill you."

She giggled, "He would hate it, wouldn't he? But I think he'd hate Luci more. And I promised to never use his middle name, because he _really_ hates it."

"Primus? Yeah, it is pretty awful. I think it must have scarred him as a child, because he didn't even give me a middle name."

"He didn't?" Persephone echoed. "That is funny. I thought Oliver and I were the only people on earth without middle names."

"I thought Oliver was a middle name?"

"Not legally, we gave ourselves middle names," she said.

"What's yours?"

"Elizabeth."

"Huh, well the remaining vowels would only make me dam, dim, or dum…so I think I'll do without. Draco's a nice, strong name, stands on its own."

Persephone giggled furiously and nodded. He looked over the notes again, trying to formulate an elegant way to draft a proposal for each. Professor Sinistra would not be particularly difficult to persuade, but it was a matter of professional pride. "Persephone Elizabeth, why are you proposing clubs you can't participate in?"

"I'll be participating in the study group. I figured we'd recruit more sixth and seventh years to tutor."

"Ah, you should put that in the proposal," he said and scratched a note with his quill.

"And the Dueling Club was more Victoria's idea than mine, I just wanted something for the middle classes to do together. I've got an agenda, you see."

"An agenda?" He cast her a wary glance.

"Yes, nothing sinister. Did you listen to the Sorting Hat's song?"

"No."

She rolled her eyes. "Well, you go check it out in the library. They've got a big book with a record of every song the Sorting Hat's sung for the past five hundred years, and there's a pattern."

"You mean the pattern where it talks about each of the four Houses and their noble traits in turn? Cause I caught that one."

"I _mean_ the last year I was here the hat gave a warning. It told us to band together because dark things were coming, and three years ago it gave the same warning and repeated it in the last two songs. Always the same advice, band together, combined the houses, cooperate. But Slytherin House isn't doing that very well, is it?"

Draco opened his mouth to object, more on principle than because her words lacked truth. "Well, it _hasn't_ been," she cut him off. "So I think it would be good for Slytherins to be behind some clubs that promote cooperation between the houses. Sort of an image repair. Laurel, Chess, and Anastasia think it's a swell idea. They said they're tired of all the inter-house bickering."

Draco kept his expression set. "This agenda smacks of attention drawing," he said disapprovingly.

"Oh no, that's the beauty of it. The whole point is to be very subtle. It's just meant to give people a place to talk to each other. Some neutral ground with broader appeal than a Transfiguration Club."

"As long as you can keep a low profile personally, I guess it wouldn't be so bad," he murmured. Inter-house cooperation was hardly his biggest concern. Still the Forum for the Discussion of Current Events sounded boringly academic enough that Granger might show up, and that could yield new possibilities. Neutral ground where talking was encouraged might not be such a bad thing.

"What's this?" he asked as he shuffled through the folder papers. "Is this the Potions essay you were working on last…you got a 'P'. Snape gave you a 'P'? _Snape_ gave _you _a 'P'. This must be pretty dreadful."

She blushed and snatched the essay back. "Do you think he'd be so unethical as to not grade me like everyone else?"

"Well…" Draco started to say that's exactly what he thought, but thought better of it. "That's not the point. You got a 'P' in Potions?"

"It's just an essay."

"Yeah, but you got an 'O' on your O.W.L. What are your other grades like?" He started shuffling through her bag, ignoring her protests, and finding a bizarre inconsistency of marks. "These are horrible. I thought you were swotty, look at all these 'P's and 'D's."

"I said I was swotty, not that I am," she said, trying to set her features to look defiant, but coming off as more of a pout. "I keep up, more or less. My in class work is just fine. It just feels like such a waste of time outside of class. There's so many other things I'd rather be doing. I mean if I died tomorrow, would I like to look back on my life and say 'hurray, I did a bunch of homework' or 'I spent time with people, got to know them and positively effect their lives'."

"If you die tomorrow, I don't think you'll have the opportunity to reflect on it," Draco said unsympathetically. "And that has to be one of the oldest and lamest excuses for skiving off in history. I'm certainly not going to help you form clubs, if you can't keep up in Arithmancy."

"I'll do it on my own then," she said irritably. "You can't stop me."

"Can so. Sinistra's rather fond of me. If I tell her these clubs are stopping you from getting decent marks, she'll listen."

"That's really unfair!"

"I'll make a deal with you. You spend at least two hours a day in the library with me doing your homework properly, and I'll tell Professor Sinistra these are all absolutely wonderful ideas that'll inspire peace and unity throughout the school."

"That's fourteen hours," she whined piteously.

"And this here is a 'D' in Charms, that's 'Dreadful' you know, and P is for 'Poor', love, not 'Pass'."

"And why do you care about my marks anyway?" she demanded huffily.

"Because I care about you," he shot back.

He had not meant to say it, but it subdued her so he did not try to take it back. Besides it was true, and oddly the realization did not bother him. She was like the little sister he had never had. He had never really wanted siblings. True, he had occasionally wondered what it would be like to have them, but their absence had not left any gaps within him. Perhaps it was a result of his estrangement from his real family, but it made him comfortable to think of her that way. It put their relationship in terms he could understand, even if it stretched credibility. He was the big brother. She was the little sister. Simple.

And Persephone, like any little sister, tested the boundaries of his patience.

o

* * *

o

She submitted to the terms of their agreement, though she had trouble keeping her attention on her schoolwork even in the library. She had a tendency to wander off among the stacks and lose herself in old newspapers and books that had nothing to do with her assignments, but she was getting some work done. Draco was able to check over her essays and was satisfied that her work was at the very least improving. Other students had a bad habit of wandering up to them, but Draco shooed them away as best he could or demanded that they do homework themselves if they chose to remain.

Having accepted the role of big brother, he was taking it as a matter of pride to be a better big brother than James Potter had ever been. More tolerant and supportive and not such an absolute prick.

He stayed behind after his next Potions class. Determined to speak to Snape again. He had given a lot of thought to everything Snape had said, including the comment about bridge burning, and he knew wanted to keep the bridge between himself and Snape in good repair. He waited until the room had been clear a good thirty seconds before speaking.

"She asked about you," Draco said. Snape, who had been trying to act as if he had not noticed Draco was still there, looked up. "It was nearly one of the first things she said when I found her. She was worried that you had forgotten about her." Snape twitched almost imperceptibly. He looked as though he wanted to say something but could not find the words. Draco gave him a small smile. "It helped. Those lessons you gave me. I wouldn't have been able to rescue her without them. So thank you."

Snape's eyes darted about the classroom as though checking it for stragglers. He looked extremely uncomfortable. "You're welcome," he said stiffly. The words sounding extremely inadequate to both of them.

Draco perched himself on one of the tables with a relaxed smile as if he often had informal little chats with his Potions professor. "You know some one started a rumor that we're dating," he said with half a laugh. "Absolute nonsense of course. I mean she's a sweet girl and all, but not my type. I haven't really corrected anyone though. It keeps the hopefuls away. I figure she needs some time to settle into her classes before dealing with the advances of teenage boys."

"Mr. Malfoy, I'm afraid I don't really have much interest in your social life," Snape said dryly. "You're evening may be free, but I have another class coming so I suggest you take your books and move along."

Draco gave him another smile and left the room. Snape might not be willing to express himself openly, but it did not matter. Draco knew he had heard.

He worked on Sinistra next. The study group and the Forum passed inspection pretty quickly. She was a bit more hesitant about the Dueling Club, but Snape had written his own rather elaborate proposal. Draco took her through it line by line and gave her his most winning smile. He talked about how disappointed Victoria would be if her idea was the only one rejected, and how Persephone needed to feel proactive to deal with her grief. It was really a dazzling performance on his part. In the end, Sinistra caved.

o

* * *

o

Persephone started the Friday evening study group by making the announcement that they would be expanding it to include the first and second years in the other houses. This was met with a chorus of groans and protests. Apparently the Slytherins had been showing up the other first and second years in several classes and did not want to lose their edge.

She added insult to injury by assigning them all three specific students, one from each house, to invite to the meetings. None of the sixth or seventh year tutors showed much surprise at the move, because Persephone had worked on each of them during the week to gain their support. Laurel was ready with a stack of parchment slips to hand them.

Proving that she had thought about this more than Draco would have given her credit for, Persephone also had an elaborate incentive plan to win the first and second years back over. Any student who got all three of the other students on their list to attend the study group would receive a treat from Honeydukes, which was a big deal for the first and second years as they were not yet allowed into Hogsmeade. Beyond that each "team" of four would compete against the others for the highest exam grades, and the winners would get another set of prizes. "This is completely independent from the House Cup competition," Persephone assured them.

By the end most of the students were starting to whisper excitedly and compare lists with each other, but Bardolf threatened to stalk off.

"Go ahead," Persephone said. "No one's forcing you to stay."

Bardolf worked his jaw for a moment. He looked to his friends for support but found none. "You put a Mudblood on my list," he spat finally.

The other students looked at Persephone anxiously as if expecting her to stalk off again, but she merely nodded. "That's right. Everyone has at least one Muggle born student on their list." This pronouncement set of a fresh set of whispers. These slightly scandalized. "It's only fair. Now you all heard the Sorting Hat. The Houses need to pull together. This is your opportunity to do just that. You will be spending the next six to seven years of your life with these other students. You might as well get to know them now, learn to enjoy each other."

"I think it's an excellent idea," Charles Bulstrode said, and Thomas Dey gave a nod from beside him. "Can we get Pepper Imps?"

"How are you going to afford all this candy?" Draco asked much later.

"Donations. Theodore's putting in a few galleons, so is Laurel and Alice. Some other people have dropped in a few sickles and knuts, and Daphne said she'd get her dad to donate forty galleons for prize money for the winning team. She hasn't done it yet, which is why I left the prize vague. Indigo's playing treasurer."

"You do know they're all in it for the candy," Draco told her. "None of them were inspired by your little House unity speech."

Persephone shrugged. "Never underestimate the power of a well placed bribe."

Draco raised his eyebrows. "Okay, maybe you did know my father."

o

* * *

o

And then the month was gone, and the next reared its head. It started with a bleak drizzle and got steadily worse. (Not the rain, the rain cleared up the next day. The month got worse.)

"_Excuse me…excuse me, may I have your attention_? Thank you. Um… I have some new club announcements. The Slytherins have been holding a Friday evening study group for first and second years this past month, and we've had a lot of success with it, so we're opening it up for all the Houses. The study group will start at five o'clock and go 'til seven. We'll be meeting in the third floor study hall. We're encouraging all first and second years to take advantage of it.

"We're also looking for sixth and seventh year students to act as tutors. As well as giving you a chance to get acquainted with your underclassmen, it's a good opportunity to brush up on your basic spells.

"Third through fifth years are encouraged to attend the interest meeting for the new Hogwarts Dueling Club at four o'clock this afternoon in the Great Hall. Professor Snape will be supervising.

"For Sixth and Seventh Years we will be holding a _Forum for the Discussion of Current Events_…to well, discuss current events. First meeting will take place at eight o'clock on Tuesday evening in the Arithmancy lab. Thank you for your attention."

Persephone returned to the table slightly pink but looking proud of herself all the same.

Draco stared at her in disgust for a few moments until she let the smile fall. She did not have the decency to look abashed but raised her eyebrow curiously. "The words 'low profile' hold absolutely no meaning for you, do they?"

"I just made an announcement."

"That's what the announcement boards are for."

"I put it on the announcement boards, but I wanted to make sure people read it."

o

* * *

o

Thursday morning brought more mail from Oliver. He had finally run out of packages to send Persephone and had started sending letters instead. At first glance they were long fantasies about the daily lives of the imaginary students at Persephone's imaginary old school, only told anecdotally with an incredibly elegant turn of phrase. While there was nothing overtly romantic about them, there was a running theme that Persephone was sorely missed and life had lost color in her absence, which got Persephone and the other Slytherin girls quite gooey.

Draco found the letters annoyingly perplexing at first. Why on earth Oliver found a need to write so much when Persephone slipped down to his office a few times a week was beyond him. The letters seemed to be absolute fluff for that matter, which struck him as out of character. Yes, it helped the illusion that Persephone had come from Canada. Oliver had done enough research to know the name of the school, its headmaster, and something about the general layout of its grounds. He could not understand why Snape had gone to such lengths to invent people until he started recognizing some of the anecdotes. They were ones he had heard from his parents and their friends.

And once he recognized the stories, he had begun to recognize the characters. Andrew was Lucius. Oliver was clearly more creative with his code names. Draco's mother was Delilah. He had no idea who Zaccharias might be, but Simon was quite clearly Avery. John was obviously James who stayed in the perpetual company of Mark, who was a git beyond measure.

He felt absurd to be reading Persephone's mail just like the seventh year girls insisted on doing, but once he recognized what the letters were he was transfixed. It was like the seventeen year old Snape was writing Persephone from across the Atlantic stretch of time, still trapped in a lonely seven year. He coveted the glimpses of his young parents and the whispers of their engagement. He was sure none of the girls understood the references to the Hunting Club, but he found them absolutely chilling.

Persephone for her part enjoyed sharing. It gave her an excuse to talk about Oliver, which made Draco anxious at first, but her many assurances that Oliver was really "sweet and shy" made Draco think it would be less likely for people to link him back to Snape.

At first Draco had found his own lack of mail a relief, but as the days crawled by without a sight of Oberon or Roughskin, he started to worry. There was significance in silences. Perhaps his mother had given up on him.

This was not his only worry. Conjuring was certainly interesting, but that did not make him instantly good at it. Goyle on the other hand seemed to have found his calling and was pulling thimble after thimble out of mid air. "And look this one's red. I think I can get a flower on the next one, or maybe a silver snake detail on a green one. Do you think Millicent would like that?"

Being out done by Goyle in a lesson just proved that the universe was out to get him. It took him nearly an hour to catch the Snitch during Quidditch practice that afternoon. He knew it would be a good day to go to bed early, but Persephone could not talk about anything except her worry that no one would show up to her Forum. He had already promised to go, so after dinner he dragged himself up to the Arithmancy lab.

He was mildly surprised by how many people followed him. Naturally all the other seventh year girls came when Pansy announced that she would attend. Crabbe and Goyle were loyal enough to suffer with him, but Zabini and Nott followed them up as well. "Might as well, Laurel's busy with an essay," Nott explained sadly. Zabini had never felt a need to explain himself before and did not start now. Chesann went to bed after dinner, but the rest of the sixth year girls came. Captain Weatherby enthusiastically reviewed the Quidditch practice in detail as they climbed the stairs and looked mildly surprised to find himself in the Arithmancy lab. Draco imagined the rest of the sixth year boys had just sort of sheeped up.

Persephone was practically glowing as students from other Houses began to shuffle in. She babbled excitedly, until Anastasia pointed out that Colin Creevey had arrived.

Persephone hopped up. "Hey, Colin! Did you bring it?" she called merrily and joined a cluster of sixth years at another table.

"Draco, what is this meeting all about?" Daphne asked.

"Current events," he said with a shrug.

"Oh, well that explains," she said with a light hint of a sarcasm.

"It's like she's trying to start a bloody mudblood outreach program," Pansy muttered. "What in the name of Merlin does she want with Creevey?"

"We've been thinking about getting him to take some photos for the six year girls," Anastia explained. "He was going to show her his portfolio."

Draco grimaced. That's all he needed. Sixth year girls sending photos home containing a classmate who was supposed to be dead. He would have to put a stop to it, but there were too many people for him to yell at Persephone now.

He saw that Potter, Granger, and Weasley had taken seats. He watched Persephone join them and wished he could hear what they were saying. _Tell him, please, tell him_. He wanted to tell Alice to shut up about Eloise Midgeon so he could hear but doubted that would help. Persephone seemed to be doing okay on her own. She was chatting animatedly, and Potter was giving her his attention. Then for no apparent reason her face fell. _No, don't get a sudden attack of the nerves now_, he pleaded, but his silent protest went unheeded. She stood up and hurried back to the Slytherin table. She dropped heavily into the seat beside Draco looking miserable, and her forehead fell against his shoulder. He was a bit startled by how publicly familiar she was being with him. Not trying to hide his discomfort, he pushed her shoulders gently to separate them.

She whimpered and pushed her hair back. "What am I doing?" she asked in a soft, dull voice.

"I have absolutely no idea," he said. "It's about ten after, why don't you start your meeting?"

Persephone nodded and stood back up. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. When she opened them again, she seemed to have regained her resolve and went to the center of the room to get everyone's attention. Draco looked at his watch wondering how long the meeting would take.

"I brought a copy of the Daily Prophet and the London Times, if we need ideas," Persephone was saying. "We could discuss the flooding in India or the political shift in Hong Kong or the market drop in cauldron sales…oh-OR we could discuss the fact there's a psychotic dark wizard out to kill everyone." That shut Alice up. Draco did not dare look at Pansy. He caught Crabbe's questioning glance and dropped his head into his hand. _Don't do this, Persephone. Please don't do this_.

The pause only lasted a few seconds, but it felt like an eternity. Draco's brain whirred painfully in the interim.

"Not everyone," Pansy said into the silence. "Only Mudbloods."

Draco felt his head jerk up. How could she say that? Even Pansy couldn't be that callous, not after what had happened Evra Tome. _She doesn't know about that, idiot._ _You should tell her. You should tell them all what he's capable of._ _I can't, if I tell them that I have to tell everything... but Evra was pureblood._ "Don't be naive, Pansy." he said slowly, his voice falling mechanically into a lazy drawl. "He'll kill anyone who gets in his way."

If anything the room got quieter. He glanced at Hermione. _I'm trying to do the right thing. Please see that I'm trying_.

"Are you making threats, Malfoy?" Ron Weasley shot and jumped to his feet, fists clenched. _Wonderful, leave it to the brilliant mind of a Weasley to completely misinterpret things._

A million acidic retorts flashed through his mind but decided this was not worth fighting over. "Just stating facts, Weasley," he said coolly, meeting Ron's eyes.

"The _point_ of this forum," interrupted Persephone, doing a wonderful impression of Hermione and giving them both quelling looks. "Is to discuss important issues in a _civil_ manner. I would like to think we can do that without direct staff supervision. And if you don't think you can be civil, you can leave."

Draco dropped his gaze. _I wasn't fighting_, he thought sulkily. There was another tense silence, but no sounds of the door slamming. Weasley must have sat back down.

"Okay," Persephone said, readopting her teacher manner. "Let's start at the beginning. What do we know about Voldemort anyway?"

Several people yelped. "Don't say the _name_!" a Hufflepuff squeaked.

"Why not?" Persephone asked in an exasperated tone. "Start with that—_Why_ shouldn't we say his name?"

"Because he's horrible," Lavender Brown said in a small voice. "It's a horrible name."

"A name only means as much as the thing it stands for," said Persephone. "And if everyone knows what you mean, I don't see how saying You-Know-Who is any better than saying Voldemort. It's just confusing, and personally, I think it's very silly. Think about it. Is there any reason, any _real _reason, not to say Voldemort?"

_Yes, dear, call everyone's fear silly. That'll win you lots of friends._

"No, there's not," Harry said loudly. _Then again._ Draco had been thinking sarcastically, but this was the exact sort of thing Potter would like to hear. And he did want Potter on his side, didn't he? Still, Evra…Voldemort could easily do to Draco what he did to Evra.

"Yes, there is!" some sixth year retorted.

"Is there some spell on the name or something?" asked Persephone. For a long moment no one replied.

When Draco was really young, he had been genuinely afraid of saying Voldemort's name because his parents had been so afraid to speak it. Anything that made so many adults tremble had to be really scary, right? As time progressed, however, his father had started saying the name on occasion, almost fondly behind closed doors with his closest male friends. The world would have been so much better if only Lord Voldemort had stayed in power. It was really such a shame he was gone. So Draco had lost the fear of this thing Voldemort. After all his father liked him, he couldn't be that bad. He had even become comfortable enough to say the name himself at one of his mother's teas and was promptly spanked and sent to his room. This had confused him greatly and left him to regard Voldemort's name as an extremely dirty swear word. Then Voldemort had returned, and he remembered his parents speaking about him in low tones when they thought he could not hear, a weird mixture of excitement and terror. Then his father returned from jail and finally taken Draco into some confidences. Voldemort had been a student in Slytherin just like he had. He had been a bloody perfect. Draco had been angry enough about this prefect's presumptuousness and the theft of his father's attention, that he had started speaking the name privately out of defiance, and then he had met Voldemort and learned to fear him again. But what _was _the point of not saying his name?

Draco sighed. He was so tired of this. "No, there isn't any spell. Go ahead and say Voldemort if you're feeling brave." It was a nice bit of doublespeak. _I said his name, Potter, pay attention._ Still, the other Slytherins pulled back from him. Whatever. He did not care. He wanted Potter's attention.

"Fear of a name only increases fear of the thing itself1," Potter said.

"And the only way to defeat a fear is to face it," Draco drawled. He looked directly into Harry's eyes. Snape had admitted teaching Potter Occlumency, maybe he had taught him Legilimency as well. He focused on his thoughts, trying to will Harry to read his mind. _You have to kill him Potter. Please, kill him. I want you to kill him. _Harry looked at him curiously. "Got any more platitudes for us, Potter?" He glanced at Persephone on the last word, then found Potter's gaze again. _She's a Potter. Persephone P., Persephone Potter. Come on, put it together._

"You like to talk big, Malfoy," he heard the annoying voice of Colin Creevey say. "But Harry's faced him. I bet you've never even seen him."

"Course I have," Draco said, keeping his eyes on Harry. "He stayed at my house this summer. We had tea." Draco was vaguely aware of the other Slytherin laughing, his own mouth twitching in response. Good, they had taken it as a joke. _He's still there. He's there now. Go get him. _Potter was looking directly into his eyes now. _That's right. I'm trying to tell you something. He's still there. You have to kill Voldemort._

"Are you serious?" Colin gasped.

Time to backpedal. Draco broke his gaze with Potter. "Of course, I'm not serious," he said putting all the venom into his voice that he could muster. It was not hard. He did hate Creevey. "Do you think I'd tell you something like that if I was?"

"Can we be serious?" Persephone said sharply. Draco caught her eye for a moment and could have sworn she said, _What are you doing? _though her mouth barely moved.

_What are you doing? _he mouthed back.

She took a deep breath and continued as if he had not said anything. "I think Harry has a point. From what I know of Voldemort, he likes to use fear to control people. It's a rather classic trait in dictators. Fear and scapegoats. I bet he thinks it's really funny, we all twitch like rabbits at the sound of his name."

It was a fine thing for her to say. Death was still an abstract concept for Persephone. She could not see the Thestrals.

Obviously Persephone had been planning this speech. She plunged on ruthlessly. A small part of Draco's mind appreciated her fervor and the skill with which she was playing the students, but the larger part of his brain kept intoning, _She's going to get us killed. She's going to get us killed._

"Who doesn't know who Hitler is? Raise your hands."

Draco limply raised his hand but not his arm. He had a vague recollection that Hitler was a German military commander but had no idea where he had picked up this information or how it could relate to Voldemort.

"About the same time the dark wizard Grindelwald was running amuck, there was a Muggle named Hitler and a group called the Nazis. The Nazis believed in a superior race. They called this the Aryan race, basically it meant people who were born with blonde hair and blue eyes." Draco could feel everyone's eyes on him and wished he could sink through the floor. He gave Persephone a betrayed look. He felt someone pat his shoulder and realized with a shock that it was Alice. She had never done anything even remotely familial before. "They believed anyone who didn't have blonde hair and blue eyes was inferior and should be wiped off the face of the earth."

"Because of eye color?" Pansy asked in an incredulous tone. Draco wondered if she had some how missed the very obvious parallel that Persephone was making to the Death Eaters.

"Not that there's anything wrong with blondes," said Daphne. "But wouldn't it be rather boring if everyone on earth had the same hair and eye color?" _Yes, Daphne, it's all about hair color._

At least Crabbe looked like he was taking this seriously.

"Isn't it possible that he's already dead?" a Hufflepuff boy asked hopefully. "I mean the ministry did that raid on the Death Eaters hideout, and nothing's happened since then." Draco thought of Evra again…_nothing's happened_? "Isn't it possible he got killed or injured in the raid, and none of the Death Eaters are willing to come forward and admit it?"

Why weren't they doing anything? Draco wondered. Voldemort had at least twenty Death Eaters with him. Why were they all hiding? He did not think it was fear.

"I think for now it would be safer to assume that he is alive," Persephone said carefully. "At least until, we have some proof that he isn't. And if he's not, then we can consider this an interesting academic exercise."

Draco's brain turned inward so that he only half heard what she was saying.

"This does not mean all the Nazis were cold blooded killers by nature. They started as normal people like the rest of us. They had families and loved ones and a lot of them realized that the things they were doing and helping to do were very horrible, but they went along with it because they were afraid that Hitler and the other Nazis would turn on them. A lot of them even managed to convince themselves they were doing the right thing, so they could live with it."

But were they wrong to be afraid? Draco thought. The others would turn on them. They would attack their families, and what sort of person were you to sacrifice your family for strangers?

"It's a vicious cycle, fear then compliance then participation, and I think the best place to break it is at the beginning. If we give ourselves over to our fears, we give Voldemort power over us. The best way I know how to fight fear is with laughter. Laughter relieves tension. It lets us clear our heads so we can react properly."

But what was there left to laugh about? He just wanted this horrible meeting to be over with, but he could not think how to end it early without betraying how much it affected him. Everyone else seemed rapt. Potter was silent but clearly paying attention. So Draco watched his watch. Occasionally he felt as though Granger was watching him. Did she think him a Nazi and Death Eater? And would she really be all that wrong?

He started to think his watch was broken, but Crabbe's was keeping the same slow march. Finally, mercifully, the hand hit fifteen til. "Persephone," he said, without any regard for who or what he was interrupting, and pointed to his watch.

"Looks like it's time to wrap up," she said. "We can continue next week. Maybe do a little research in the mean time. Hermione, did you want to make an announcement before we go?"

"Uh-no, next week will be fine."

"Okay, well, I guess that's it. We better get back to our common rooms before Filch puts us all in detention."

Draco weaved his way through the crowd of students that had sprung up from their seats. He made his way to Persephone. He wanted to grab her by the hair and drag her out but believed this might leave a bad impression with the other students. "Can I talk to you?" he asked his, voice small and parched.

"Sure thing." She seemed to understand that he needed to talk _now_. "We've got to get back to the common room. See in you in class tomorrow okay? Oh, well, I can meet you in the library…after the last period…okay? G'night. Night, Colin." She took Draco's arm gently as though they were still getting along well and let him steer her into the hall.

He spotted another empty classroom door across the hall, and they slipped into it. "Are you okay?" she asked after the door was shut.

"No, I'm not okay. What the HELL was that?" He had meant to make himself sound calm and reasonable but was failing miserably.

"It was a discussion," she said, looking stubbornly innocent. "I thought it went really well."

"Are you mad?" He stalked further away from the door, throwing his arms in dramatic gestures. "No, don't bother answering. You are mad. You're incredibly mad or incredibly stupid. How could you do this to me?"

"I wasn't-"

"How could you do this to Crabbe and Goyle and to Pansy? They took you in. They accepted you. How you could you put us on the spot like that."

"I wasn't trying to-"

He paced like a caged wildcat. "I thought you were going to discuss things, not declare war! Because that's what you just did, you know? He won't ignore you now. Not now, not after that. You might have had a chance before…but this…I thought we'd agreed to keep our heads down. You promised. You _promised_ me you wouldn't draw attention to yourself!"

"I said I'd try."

"And that was trying?" He was breathing heavily. His face pale. He hated it when she was like this. Standing there cool and deadpan while he was upset, regarding him as though he were a mere curiosity. "You can't fight him, Persephone. You can't. He may not be a god, but he is powerful and he is merciless and he will not hesitate to kill you. He'll enjoy it. I gave up everything. _Everything_ so you could have another chance. All you had to do was keep your mouth shut. Why couldn't you keep your mouth shut?"

"I didn't tell them anything they didn't already know. I didn't tell them where he was or who was helping him. I could have, you know."

"I appreciate that, but why, _why_, won't you listen to me? All I told you to do was keep your head down, to not draw attention to yourself."

"I tried, Draco. I did, but I just can't."

"Why not?"

"Because I hate him!" Her voice had become hissy and harsh, her silver eyes flashing. "I've never hated anyone before, but I—hate—him." Her jaw was set, her fist clenched and stiff, and Draco got the impression of an overgrown six year old. "I know I can't fight him face to face, so I'll strike him anyway I can. Even if it's just hurling words at him."

Draco stopped pacing. It was somehow easier to be reasonable when she was upset. "Persephone…I hate him too, but…"

"He killed Papa and Mama. He killed James. He took Lucius. And what he's put Severus through." She gasped as if the thought physically pained her. "And he's not going to stop, Draco. He's not going to stop, until someone stops him. We have to fight him."

"No, no we don't," Draco said. "Maybe someone has to, but it doesn't have to be us."

"So you'd just sit there and keep your head down while he takes over England or something?"

"That would be general plan," he said with a nod.

"You're going to have to choose sides eventually," she said.

"No, I don't." How could he make her understand? This was not a game. There was not a red team and a blue team. "Do you want to know what I saw? You know what made me run? That missing librarian, Evra Tome. He killed her, the Death Eaters killed her. I've known her forever. She was pureblood, and they killed her right in front of me. Just because she was in the wrong place at the wrong time. And my father was there. Lucius was there, and it didn't phase him. He just stood there. I just stood there."

Her fists uncoiled, and he knew he was getting to her. "They didn't use the killing curse. It wasn't neat or quick. There was all this blood, and she screamed. And I couldn't even speak. I was so scared I couldn't even speak."

She finally softened. "Oh, Draco. Draco, I'm so sorry."

"Your parents are dead, Sephi, but mine are still alive. He's got my mother. He's got my father. I can't fight him. I can't."

She bit her lip.

"If you want to fight him so bad, why haven't you talked to Harry?"

"I was planning to after the meeting, but you wanted to talk to me."

"Oh," he felt slightly abashed and folded his arms over his chest.

She reached towards him sympathetically. "Look, Draco. I know it's bad, but if we stick together…"

"No!" he yelped retreating from her touch. "No. You're on own now, Persephone. If you're going to do stuff like this, you're on your own." He reached for the door. "If you're going to do stuff like this, I shouldn't be seen with you."

"If that's what you have to do," she said very softly.

"It is," he said and left her alone.


	10. The Boggart

**Disclaimer:** This story is based on the Harry Potter novels written by J.K. Rowling. All characters created by J.K. Rowling are owned by J.K. Rowling. The few characters created by me (i.e. Persephone, Hotchet, Kagome…) belong to me, but are available for use in other fics as long as I get credited as their creator. None of us are making any money off this and no infringement is intended.

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o

**Level 1.4: The Boggart**

"I think you've been replaced," Ginny said as she sat down next to Harry and Ron in the Gryffindor common room. She thunked an enormous library book on the table.

Harry gave her a dubious glance. "Found a new Seeker, have you?"

"What?-No." Ginny wrinkled her nose as though she found the idea unsavory. "I mean Persephone doesn't talk about you as much anymore. It's all this Oliver fellow now."

Ron placed his hand over his heart. "Do you think you'll be all right, Harry?"

"I think I'll recover," said Harry dryly.

"She's really a very _nice_ girl," Ginny insisted. Harry and Ron exchanged a look. They had made several creative passes by Persephone with his Pocket Sneakoscope and were still uncertain whether or not she was a nice girl. Persephone reminded Harry of Cho in the sense that she never seemed to travel the halls alone. The Sneakoscope, which was not a particularly expensive model, sometimes went off as they passed her and sometimes did not. Harry and Ron had not been sure whether this meant Persephone was sometimes being sneaky and sometimes not, or that she sometimes associated with sneaky people and sometimes not, or that they were setting it off themselves with their sneaky attempts to check on her sneakiness. They had impressed Hermione by making a rather sophisticated chart of the people who had been in the immediate area every time the Sneakoscope reacted, but they failed to find any significant patterns.

All he knew for sure was Indigo Stump had been untrustworthy last Thursday. The Sneakoscope had whirred loudly enough in his bag to make her jump when they passed in the second floor corridor. He was pretty sure that Malfoy had set it off on the 17th of September but had failed to set it off during some of the following passes. "Well it is _cheap_," Ron had said. Some one (or everyone) in Pansy Parkinson's gang was untrustworthy, but Harry could have figured that out without the Sneakoscope's help. It had gone off again in the middle of a group of fourth year Hufflepuffs, while Ron had it in his pocket.

They had both observed that the ghosts were taking turns not only escorting Persephone to classes but following her everywhere she went. "I bet Dumbledore's put them up to it," said Ron. Hermione took this as evidence that Dumbledore did not completely trust her either.

"Dumbledore had me followed for a while, remember?" Harry had said testily. "Do you think he distrusts me?"

Hermione had looked horrified. "Of course not, he was trying to protect you."

"Well, then." This had gotten Harry wondering if Persephone was a refugee and needed his help on something. If she really needed his help though, Harry thought she might be a little more determined to talk to him. She certainly did not act like someone fearing for her life. He hesitated saying anything to Hermione about this theory; sure she would dismiss it as his "saving people thing".

"Has she told you anything about the forum tonight?" Hermione asked from behind her book stack.

"Only that she hopes a lot of people show up," Ginny said. "I felt bad, telling her I couldn't come. I wanted to, but Professor Binns forgot to give us an essay last time, so he assigned two to make up for it. Ugh. Like it would have been so awful to miss one."

"I can't imagine why anyone would come," said Ron. "Sounds boring."

o

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o

Harry had never been inside the Arithmancy Lab before. It was an octagonal room, with two rows of tables set up in a large diamond pattern. The walls were lined with number charts. A chandelier type device on the ceiling kept generating random numbers, which swam up in gold then faded away again. There were short shelves under the three walls of windows, which held a variety of odd devices, most of which Harry could not have guessed their use though he recognized a scale and a compass among them.

He had assumed that many people, like Ron, would think that something called the Forum for the Discussion of Current Events "sounds boring", so he was surprised to find quite a few students had already gathered. The Slytherins were out in full force. They had taken over one of the outer tables and were looking formidable, though several of them seemed to be wondering why they were there. Crabbe and Goyle looked more confused than usual, and Malfoy at the center of the group looked like he would much rather be in bed. The rest of the room was broken into smaller groups sitting at odd spots around the various tables. Harry would guess there were around forty people all together. A few of them were D.A. members he had encouraged to come, but most of them were non-D.A. students.

Harry spotted P. sitting with Colin Creevey and a group of sixth year students examining what appeared to be a photo album. He had left the Sneakoscope back in the dorm, there was little point bringing it along when there might be a chance of a crowd. He led Ron and Hermione to take a seat near them at the inner table opposite the Slytherins. Persephone caught sight of them and smiled broadly. "Harry! Have you seen these? They're really good."

Colin turned slightly pink. He was smiling modestly but would not quite meet Harry's eye. Biting back a sigh Harry craned his neck to look. It was in fact a photo album filled with moving photographs and to Harry's dismay the current page featured pictures of his younger self. Colin was an enthusiastic photographer, and Harry had been his favorite subject when he had first arrived at Hogwarts. Colin was more respectful these days of Harry's desire for privacy, but that had not inspired him to get rid of any of his old photos.

Persephone seemed to think Harry was having trouble seeing and brought the entire album over and sat down beside him. "I think Colin has a really good eye for composition. Don't you?"

"Um, sure," Harry said, sitting down. He looked at Hermione who was covering her mouth and Ron who was not even attempting to cover his expression.

"You're very photogenic, Harry." Persephone turned the page. "Ooo! I like this one. Look, Harry, it's got you and Draco together." She said this as though it was something that might please him. There was a mild coolness to the photograph. It was one Colin had taken during Harry's first game against Draco. The two boys were flying towards the camera, the background blurring behind them (Colin must have experimented with his developing fluids), Quidditch robes whipping in the wind, both too intent on catching the Snitch to spare each other more than the occasional glare. Harry might have liked the photograph if Draco had not been in it too.

Colin was hovering nervously over Persephone's shoulder. She turned back to him. "Colin, do you think I could have a copy of this one?"

Ron made a spluttering noise.

"Um, sure, I think I can do that," Colin said, blushing with a mix of professional pride and embarrassment from the look Harry was giving him. Colin took his portfolio back so it would no longer offend.

Persephone did not leave but cast her beaming smile back on Harry. "I am _so_ glad you came. I was really worried no one would show up."

"So, uh, how are you liking Hogwarts?" Harry asked, trying to change the subject.

"Huh? Oh, I love it! It's a really charming school, and the people are so nice." She glanced over at the Slytherins, and Harry thought they looked anything but friendly. Pansy Parkinson in particular was glaring darts at them. Draco was watching them with mild interest. "And I like all my professors."

"Particularly Professor Snape," said Hermione.

"Oh, yes, he's my favorite," said Persephone.

"We caught that," Ron said.

Persephone looked perplexed for a moment then the memory returned to her. "Well, I knew him before I got to Hogwarts. He's an old friend…of the family's. Known him for years."

"How long have you known Malfoy?" Harry asked.

"Draco and I met this summer," said Persephone. "But I've known his family for ages too."

"That's not something I'd brag about," said Ron.

Persephone's smile faltered. "Draco's really a wonderful person…when you get to know him."

"_Right_," said Ron sardonically. "I'll put that on my to-do list. _Get to know Malfoy_."

"Be nice, Ron," Hermione reproved him. She gave Persephone her prefect smile. "I take it your family has connections in England then. Are your parents originally from Britain?"

"Yes, originally," said Persephone.

"Are they here with you?"

"No, it's just me," Persephone said. She flicked her eyes from Ron to Harry. "Are you angry with me because I came to watch your practice the other day? Ginny said it was okay."

"No," Harry lied diplomatically. "We didn't mind."

"No, we didn't mind at all," said Ron sarcastically. "Big fan of Quidditch are you?"

"Not really," said Persephone, her smile gradually recovering. "James loves it though."

"James?" Harry asked.

"My brother."

Hermione looked interested. "You have a brother? Why didn't he come to Hogwarts?"

"He did, but he graduated ages ago," she said.

"Do you have any other siblings?" Hermione asked, and Harry could see the gears turning in her head.

"No, just the one," Persephone said. She looked uncomfortable for a moment but recovered herself. She gave Hermione a warm smile and leaned forward on the table. "Draco told me you had some sort of house-elf organization…called _Spew_?"

Ron muffled a snicker. Hermione cast him a quick glare. "It's not _spew_. It's S.P.E.W., the Society for the Promotion of Elvish Welfare."

"Oh! That makes a lot more sense," said Persephone with a light laugh. "It sounds like a wonderful idea. I think it's about time someone did something for them. Do you hold meetings? What sort of things do you do?"

"Oh well, we haven't had any major activities yet," said Hermione, clearly surprised by the other girl's interest but warming up to it. "Mainly, we're trying to build a membership base right now, promote awareness, and raise funds. Ron here is treasurer, and Harry is the secretary."

Harry gave Hermione a wane smile. She had not mentioned that Ron and Harry had done absolutely nothing to fulfill these roles and only had the titles because she had forced positions upon them. "Are you, Harry? That's wonderful," Persephone beamed, looking genuinely impressed. Of course, Harry was beginning to think she could manage to look impressed if Hermione had said that Harry could tie his shoes by himself. Harry noticed P. did not seem at all impressed by Ron's treasury position, and he could tell Ron had noticed too.

"How do you join?" Persephone asked Hermione.

Hermione brightened. "Well, it's just two sickles to join, and you get an S.P.E.W. badge. I don't have any with me now, but I can bring you one."

"Oh," Persephone said again, only this 'Oh' was slightly flat and her face fell. "Well, it really does sound wonderful. This is exactly the sort of thing I want to use the forum to discuss, so this would be the perfect place for you to make an announcement about it. Excuse me."

Hermione's expression darkened again as Persephone walked away. "Figures. Won't put her Knuts where her mouth is. Probably worried all her Slytherin friends would laugh at her. No one is willing to make a _stand_ for the house-elves."

"I think it has more to do with no one wanting to wear a pin that says _spew_ on it," Ron corrected her.

"I notice you're not wearing yours," Harry added.

Hermione scowled. "Well, things have just been hectic. I was reorganizing and—I'm going to start wearing it again."

Harry watched Persephone return to the Slytherin table on the far side of the room. She plopped down next to Draco and rested her head on his shoulder. Malfoy, aware of all the people watching, looked extremely uncomfortable and pushed her off gently. They exchanged a few quiet words. Persephone nodded and stood back up. She visibly steeled herself and walked to the center of the room.

"If I could have everyone's attention?" she said in a raised voice. "It's about ten after, so we really should get started. I'm really glad to see so many people here. Does anyone have any questions?"

"Persephone, what's the point of this forum?" a Ravenclaw girl that Harry did not know asked.

"I thought that was obvious," a Hufflepuff boy responded. "To discuss current events."

The Ravenclaw gave the Hufflepuff a cold look. "That could mean a lot of things, which events?"

"Well, it's open for anything. I brought a copy of the Daily Prophet and the London Times, if we need ideas," Persephone said indicating two newspapers. She walked back and forth as she spoke, ticking off options with her fingers. "We could discuss the flooding in India or the political shift in Hong Kong or the market drop in cauldron sales…oh-OR we could discuss the fact there's a psychotic dark wizard out to kill everyone." She said the last with a surprising amount of bright sarcasm and paused. Anyone who had not been paying attention before was doing so now, and though several of the Slytherins were looking more confused now than ever, they no longer looked bored. Draco Malfoy had his forehead in his hand as though struck by a sudden headache.

"Not everyone," Pansy Parkinson said in a meek voice. "Only Mudbloods."

Malfoy looked up. "Don't be naive, Pansy." he drawled. "He'll kill anyone who gets in his way." Several people twitched nervously.

"Are you making threats, Malfoy?" Ron shot, getting to his feet.

Malfoy looked at Ron like he was a rather unpleasant slug that he would like to squash but did not want getting on his shoe. "Just stating facts, Weasley."

"The _point_ of this forum," interrupted Persephone, doing a wonderful impression of Hermione and giving them both quelling looks. "Is to discuss important issues in a _civil_ manner. I would like to think we can do that without direct staff supervision. And if you don't think you can be civil, you can leave." Malfoy looked away, but Harry thought for a moment that Ron would storm out.

Hermione must have come to the same conclusion. "Ron," she hissed under her breathed. "Prefects need to set an example."

Harry could have told Hermione that this was not the best argument to use where Ron was concerned, but it had its effect. Not to be outdone by Malfoy, Ron sat down, still glowering. Persephone looked uncertain for a moment as though surprised by her success, and Harry silently urged her to go on.

"Okay," she said, readopting her teacher manner. "Let's start at the beginning. What do we know about Voldemort anyway?"

So many people let out yelps, that it would be hard to pin down exactly who. Hands were clapped over mouths all over the room. Harry was proud to see the D.A. members in the room reacted less dramatically than the rest. "Don't say the _name_!" a Hufflepuff girl, who was not in the D.A., squeaked.

Persephone gave the room a look as though she thought everyone was acting very strangely. "Why not?" she asked in an exasperated tone. "Start with that—_Why_ shouldn't we say his name?"

"Because he's horrible," Lavender Brown said in a small voice. "It's a horrible name."

"A name only means as much as the thing it stands for," said Persephone. "And if everyone knows what you mean, I don't see how saying You-Know-Who is any better than saying Voldemort." Several people whimpered again. "It's just confusing, and personally, I think it's very silly. Think about it. Is there any reason, any _real _reason, not to say Voldemort?"

"No, there's not," Harry said loudly.

"Yes, there is!" someone retorted. Everyone waited for them to continue, but they did not have more to say on the subject.

"Is there some spell on the name or something?" asked Persephone. For a long moment no one replied.

"No, there isn't any spell," Malfoy broke the silence with a sigh. "Go ahead and say Voldemort if you're feeling brave." The Slytherins who had been huddled around Draco shifted away from him as though they feared lightning might strike him.

"Fear of a name only increases fear of the thing itself1," Harry repeated something Dumbledore had told him a long time ago. Persephone smiled gratefully at him.

"And the only way to defeat a fear is to face it," Malfoy drawled. His eyes were focused on Harry's. "Got any more platitudes for us, Potter?" A couple of the Slytherins snickered nervously. Draco's eyes flicked to Persephone then back to Harry.

"You like to talk big, Malfoy," said Colin indignantly. "But Harry's faced him. I bet you've never even seen him."

"Course I have," Draco said off handedly. "He stayed at my house this summer. We had tea." The Slytherins howled (a sort of nervous eruption), clearly thinking that Draco was telling a joke. Malfoy smiled, but there was no humor in his eyes, which he kept fixed on Harry. Harry held his gaze. There was something different about it from the regular glare. He got the strange idea that Malfoy was trying to tell him something.

"Are you serious?" Colin gasped.

"Of course, I'm not serious," Draco said acidly, his grin fading, his eyes finally flicking to Colin. "Do you think I'd tell you something like that if I was?"

"Can we be serious?" Persephone said sharply. She did not look amused. She took a deep breath. "I think Harry has a point. From what I know of Voldemort, he likes to use fear to control people. It's a rather classic trait in dictators. Fear and scapegoats. I bet he thinks it's really funny, we all twitch like rabbits at the sound of his name."

"What do you think we should do? Laugh?" This was Ernie MacMillan.

"Yes!" Persephone's silver eyes lit up. "I think that's exactly what we should do!"

"She is mad," Ron breathed in a sort of hushed awe. "She's completely, absolutely, stark raving mad." Harry gathered from the general murmur that Ron's opinion was shared by the majority.

"Are you trying to say we should find Voldemort funny?" Padma Patil asked coolly.

"No, I don't think he's funny," said Persephone. "I think he's laughable. There's a difference." Padma looked uncertain. "Take Hitler for example," Persephone continued. "He was an absolutely horrible person. Numbers wise, he makes Voldemort look like a small timer. But no one falls to pieces just at the sound of his name."

"You think You-Know-Who's like Hitler?" Dean Thomas said uncertainly.

"Remarkably so," Persephone said. She looked about at the confused faces. "I can't be the first one to have made that comparison."

"No, my dad makes it all the time," said Dean. "But I didn't think he knew what he was talking about."

"Why not?"

"Well…he's a Muggle."

"Then he's a smart Muggle," Persephone said, giving Dean a smile.

"Yeah, he is," Dean said smiling back with a bit of pride. "He's got a degree in History, and he reads more of the _Daily Prophet_ than I do. I think he'd like to know a witch agrees with his Hitler analogy."

"Who's Hitler?" Ron asked.

"He was the Nazi leader responsible for the holocaust," Hermione explained.

"Oh, I see and…what was that?"

"Okay," Persephone said. "Who doesn't know who Hitler is? Raise your hands." A little over half the room raised their hands, not all of them the half Harry was expecting, but for the most part it was the pureblood students. "Grindelwald?" Most people dropped their hands. "Okay, about the same time the dark wizard Grindelwald was running amuck, there was a Muggle named Hitler and a group called the Nazis.

"The Nazis believed in a superior race. They called this the Aryan race, basically it meant people who were born with blonde hair and blue eyes." Nearly everyone, involuntarily or openly, glanced at Draco Malfoy, whose headache seemed to have reappeared in full force. The only other blonde Slytherin, a seventh year girl, patted him on the shoulder. "They believed anyone who didn't have blonde hair and blue eyes was inferior and should be wiped off the face of the earth."

"Because of eye color?" said Pansy, her dark brown eyes wide. Persephone nodded.

"Not that there's anything wrong with blondes, but wouldn't it be rather boring if everyone on earth had the same hair and eye color?" said Daphne Greengrass, a Slytherin seventh year who changed her hair color about as often as other people changed clothes.

"Personally, I agree," Persephone said. "But then I never said that Hitler was entirely _sane_."

"You said he was worse than Voldemort," said the Hufflepuff boy who had spoken earlier.

Persephone nodded. "According to the history books I've read, Voldemort and his Death Eaters are proven to be responsible for the deaths of about three hundred wizards and five hundred Muggles in Britain. Hitler and his Nazis were responsible for the deaths of millions. _That's_ what the Holocaust was, a wave of killings that swept through central Europe like a great fire." She said the last bit to Ron.

Ron's profile twitched with disgust. "What stopped him?"

"Eventually his army was defeated, and Hitler committed suicide."

Ron turned to Harry. "Well, that would be convenient. What do you think are our chances of You-Know-Who snuffing it voluntarily?"

"Not good," said Harry.

"Isn't it possible that he's already dead?" another Hufflepuff boy asked. Heads turned his way. "I mean the ministry did that raid on the Death Eaters hideout, and nothing's happened since then. Isn't it possible he got killed or injured in the raid, and none of the Death Eaters are willing to come forward and admit it?"

It was really a nice thought, and from the silent involuntary nods across the room, it was evident that the Hufflepuff had just spoken what everyone else had been too afraid to hope. Persephone had an oddly restrained expression. Harry's eyes flicked instinctively to Draco Malfoy and thought he saw Malfoy shake his head. Harry wanted to believe Voldemort had managed to die without his help. He wanted to believe it with every fiber of his being. It would relieve a tremendous obligation from him, but he also knew with every fiber that is just wasn't true.

"No," Harry said firmly. "He's alive."

"But how do you know?" the Hufflepuff asked. Harry was grateful that he managed to do it without sounding accusatory or resentful.

He still was not sure how to respond. He could not say, "I just know." Anymore than he could say, "Because some prophecy says I'm the one who has to kill him." or "Because your Potions professor's Death Eater tattoo would have faded if he had." Some less generous people were looking Harry's way; some worried, some openly hostile. "Because Dumbledore thinks he is," Harry said finally.

"I think for now it would be safer to assume that he is alive," Persephone said carefully. "At least until we have some proof that he isn't." She clapped her hands as though to magically dispel the tension in the air and gave everyone another brilliant smile. "And if he's not, then we can consider this an interesting academic exercise." Harry propped his elbow on the table and surreptitiously covered his mouth with his hand to hide the sudden smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. He was not sure exactly what amused him.

"So Hitler, though arguably as bad as Voldemort,"—There was another collective gasp but softer than the ones before—"Never had anyone trembling at the mention of his name. Why is that?"

"Well, he was a Muggle," the blonde Slytherin said. "He may have had a powerful army, but he couldn't have been that powerful on his own."

"That's a valid point," Persephone said, though it obviously was not the one she was trying to make. "And one we should definitely get back to. But I think it has more to do media representation." It was quite clear that no one had the slightest idea what she was talking about. Persephone plunged on. "They made fun of him. The Muggles mocked Hitler every chance they got. Instead of shuddering at the thought of him, they turned him into bit of a joke. There were loads of derisive comments made about him, even in the most serious newspapers.

"I think that's the big problem with the Daily Prophet's coverage. The way they discuss Voldemort. It's almost reverent. _He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named_," she said mockingly serious voice, near loathing. "Sounds so formal. Where are the disdainful nicknames? Why is he never _Old Voldy_ or _He-Is-Who-Defeated-By-Infants_ or _Voldewart_ or…?"

"Lord Thingy," someone said softly.

"Snake-face!" a curly haired Hufflepuff sixth year shouted out. She then collapsed into such a nervous fit of giggles that it brought tears to her eyes as she tried to suffocate them. Several other people had laughed too, though more briefly.

Harry had a brief image of slinging insults at Voldemort like the heroes on television, but then he had found that real fights rarely left opportunities for witty repertoire. Still…he might be able to work in calling him _Snake-face_.

Persephone grinned. "Perfect. Exactly. It's all psychological."

"You think Voldemort is a psychological problem that can be laughed away?" asked Susan Bones.

"Well, no, not exactly," Persephone said, her grin subsiding. "I mean, if you meet him in a dark alley, that's not the time to point and start giggling. Running would probably be more advisable. But you'd be hard pressed to manage that if you freeze up at the mere sound of his name. And we're not facing him in a dark alley at the moment; we're in the Arithmancy lab at Hogwarts. Voldemort and his Death Eaters are nowhere in sight."

"But how can you be sure of that?" a girl asked, glancing nervously once again in Draco's direction. "How do you know he's not listening somehow?"

"Can't," Persephone admitted, tossing her hand out in a releasing gesture. "Maybe he is listening, but I think it's more likely he isn't. If you want to stretch the limits of probability, there's no way to be absolutely sure that he won't come bursting through the door any second, but that sort of paranoia simply isn't healthy. We could make ourselves absolutely mad worrying about every little thing he might do. It breeds unnecessary fear, and the dangerous thing about fear, even rational fear, is that it starts a cycle. It can turn you into the very thing you fear the most.

"I mean, the Nazis didn't wake up one morning, and say 'hey, we're bored, let's go commit genocide'. It was a slow process. Hitler preyed off their fears and led them to believe that the Jews specifically and non-Aryans in general were the cause of all their problems. And they didn't start killing right off either, first they separated and segregated and denied various rights until they had convinced themselves that the Jews weren't really human. And then they started killing, and the ways they killed would curl your blood.

"This does not mean all the Nazis were cold blooded killers by nature. They started as normal people like the rest of us. They had families and loved ones and a lot of them realized that the things they were doing and helping to do were very horrible, but they went along with it because they were afraid that Hitler and the other Nazis would turn on them. A lot of them even managed to convince themselves they were doing the right thing, so they could live with it. But it all boils down to fear. The Nazis in turn used fear to subdue the German people.

"It's a vicious cycle, fear then compliance then participation, and I think the best place to break it is at the beginning. If we give ourselves over to our fears, we give Voldemort power over us. The best way I know how to fight fear is with laughter. Laughter relieves tension. It lets us clear our heads so we can react properly."

"And what are you suggesting _is_ the proper way to react?" Hermione said calmly.

"Well that's the question isn't it?" said Persephone. "What do we know about Voldemort anyway? Where does he come from? How old is he? How powerful is he really? Sure, he's better than average, but I've seen no evidence to support the sort of god-like power that the Daily Prophet wants to attribute to him. How much is myth and rumors and how much is fact?"

Harry opened his mouth to answer, but he felt Hermione give him a sharp kick in the shin. He scowled at her questioningly, but she just shook her head slightly. He rubbed his shin and listened to the other students speculate. It was almost painful keeping his mouth shut as the other students showed their ignorance. Most of what they knew was rumor at best. Harry remembered how frustrating it had been for him the first month after Voldemort's return, stuck on Privet Drive with no news. He realized now that many of the Hogwarts students did not know any more than he had back then, and quite a few of them were equally frustrated by it. He thought it could only do Voldemort harm to let everyone know that he was born as the half-blood Tom Riddle but was trusting that Hermione had a good reason for wanting his silence. If not, there would be another forum next week.

Persephone kept glancing at him expectantly but seemed unwilling to single him out. The other D.A. members seemed curious about his sudden silence. The non-D.A. members looked slightly suspicious, but they seemed to be having a great deal of fun speculating about Voldemort. At least they were very vocal about it. Even some of the Slytherins had joined in, though Draco Malfoy was staying silent.

Ten o'clock was fast approaching and the conversation was hitting dead end after dead end. Malfoy got Persephone's attention and pointed to his watch.

"Looks like it's time to wrap up," she said. Several people groaned. Persephone looked absolutely delighted by their reaction. "We can continue next week. Maybe do a little research in the mean time. Hermione, did you want to make an announcement before we go?"

Hermione started at being singled out so suddenly. "Uh-no, next week will be fine."

"Okay, well, I guess that's it. We better get back to our common rooms before Filch puts us all in detention." People chuckled and started to stand up. The conversation was continuing, only now in small clumps, which meant a lot more people were talking at once.

"Oh, and I hope to see a lot of you Friday at the study group for the first and second year students. Five o'clock. Third Floor Study hall," Persephone called over the din.

Hermione stood up and walked out of the room so quickly that Harry and Ron had to jog to catch up with her. She paused just outside the door, arms crossed and eyes narrowed. "Can you believe her, calling on me last minute like that? Bet she would have loved it if I'd sputtered all over myself."

"I don't think that's what she was trying to do," said Harry.

"Wasn't it?" Hermione said sharply.

"No, it wasn't," Ron said. "Hermione, you need to relax. How much sleep have you been getting?"

"Enough," Hermione said evasively. "And that's not the point. Were you listening to her?"

"Only option I had, since you wouldn't let me talk," said Harry. "Why'd you kick me anyway?"

Hermione dropped her voice to a whisper, so the passing students would not hear. "Harry, if she's working for Voldemort—"

"Working for Voldemort?" Harry goggled at her. "Hermione, were _you_ listening? She hates him. From the sound of it, she hates him nearly as much as I do. I really liked what she had to say, and I hope she gets more people talking like that."

"Yes, it's exactly what you wanted to hear, wasn't it?" Hermione said. "Harry, haven't you seen how she gets to people? I know you think I'm paranoid, but could you just consider the possibility that she might have set up this forum to find out how much you know about Voldemort."

"Dumbledore said—"

"Well, Dumbledore's wrong sometimes isn't he?" Hermione snapped. "Remember Crouch? Dumbledore had a Death Eater hiding right under his nose for a whole school year before he caught on. I know Dumbledore has our best interest in mind. I would never question his intentions, but he is not infallible."

"And neither are you!" Harry snapped back.

"Harry, keep it down will you," Ron murmured. "And Hermione, I was listening too. I don't trust her as far as I can throw a dragon, but I don't think she's working for old Snake-face. She's certainly got Malfoy on a leash though." Ron inclined his head towards the hall behind Harry, and he turned to see Malfoy and P. slip into an empty classroom and shut the door behind them. "What do you suppose they're doing?"

"I'd rather not know," said Harry.

"I noticed she didn't have anything bad to say about the Death Eaters," Hermione said. "Made them sound like victims."

"Yeah, I noticed that too," said Ron sagely. "She'd have to be careful what she said about them, though, wouldn't she? Otherwise, she'd alienate all their kids, and that would work to her disadvantage whatever she's up to."

The hall was beginning to clear, and Harry, not interested in dealing with Filch, started walking towards the Gryffindor common room. Ron and Hermione fell into step beside him. "Do you think it's possible…" he began as they passed the door Malfoy and P. had disappeared behind. "That Malfoy was serious about Voldemort spending the summer at his house?"

"I wouldn't put it past him," Ron said. "Probably had him stowed under the drawing room floor."

"Persephone certainly shut him when he started talking about it," Hermione said. "Did you see him wilt after she got onto him?"

"Are you worried about Malfoy again?"

"I'm not _worried_ about him, Ron. I want to know why he missed the train. I want to know where she came from."

Harry let them argue all the way back to the common room, while he turned things over in his head. Maybe Malfoy had tried to tell him something. Maybe he was in trouble, or maybe he was trying lure Harry into a trap. He had certainly tried that before, taunting him with information about Sirius in hopes that Harry would get himself killed. Either way, Harry decided this was something he should discuss with Dumbledore.

o

* * *

o

The first Forum had cause quite a stir. Several students, even some younger ones who had not been at the meeting, came up to Harry in the hall to tell him that they were going to start saying "Voldemort" now instead of "You-Know-Who". Though they often said this in a whisper, the encounters left Harry smiling. Colin was so taken with the concept that he frightened a group of second year girls into tears. Dean and Seamus were struggling to come up with progressively cruder and more insulting nicknames, but _Snake-fa_ce was by far the most popular. Hermione watched all this with a dubious expression, but she realized had gone a bit far questioning Dumbledore and was keeping silent as a peace offering to Harry. Ron had come up with some rather creative nicknames himself.

It was unusually hot when the next Defense Against the Dark Arts class rolled around. Dumbledore soon despaired of the students focusing on his lecture and sent their desks to the sides of the classroom with a flick of his wand. He told them to split into pairs to work on shield charms. Harry and Ron found a clear spot. Practical lessons were definitely Harry's preferred kind in any weather. Dean and Seamus were promising to curse each other's ears off. Hermione was twisting around groggily, looking for a partner. Neville had paired up with Susan Bones.

"Hey, Granger, I'm open."

All three of them whirled at the sound of Draco Malfoy's voice. Without a word, Ron took Hermione's arm, and Harry stepped forward between her and Malfoy. Malfoy scowled at him. Harry stared back defiantly. Malfoy shrugged and took a step back with a shallow bow.

Harry really hated that Draco was taller than he was. He usually avoided standing close enough to Malfoy to notice, but it was evident at this distance that Draco had a few inches on him. _Not that it matters_, Harry told himself. _A good seeker is light_.

He caught sight of Dumbledore looking at their pairing with constrained worry, and Harry tilted his head to him in a way that he hoped was reassuring.

"Do you want to go first or should I?" Draco asked in a bored tone.

"First with the shielding or the hexing?"

Draco looked annoyed. "The shielding, Potter. That _is_ what we're supposed to be learning, isn't it?"

"Right, well, I guess I'll go first then. I know you're itching to hurl a hex at me."

Draco hesitated. "Look, Potter, I—never mind. Defend yourself."

Malfoy flung a few hexes half-heartedly at Harry, and Harry's shield held easily. Too easily. "Come on, Malfoy, you're not even trying."

"Let's switch up," Draco said. Harry shrugged and hurled a Jelly-Legs Jinx at him. Malfoy blocked it, though he looked a little wobbly.

"So, how did you like the forum?" Harry asked.

"It was swell," Malfoy said blandly.

"Swell?"

"Yeah, you know in a hellish sort of way. Look, are you gonna hex me or not?"

Harry tried a babbling curse and a bat bogey hex, which got Malfoy annoyed enough that he was a bit more challenging when they switched up again.

Right before the bell, Harry let his guard drop, and Malfoy flipped him with a well-placed curse. Harry got to his elbows rubbing his sore backside, while Malfoy cast him an anxious glance, gathered up his books, and hurried out of the classroom.

"Didn't try to kill you again did he?" Ron asked and offered Harry a hand.

"No, I don't think he was trying that hard," Harry said as he got his feet.

"I could have handled him," Hermione said, though she did not sound at all angry with Harry for stepping in.

Harry told them to head on without him and waited for the room to clear so he could have a word with the headmaster. "Alright, Harry?" Dumbledore asked as the last student left.

"Fine. Headmaster, has there been any word on Voldemort? Where he might be hiding?" Harry asked. When he saw Dumbledore's expression, he added hastily. "I'm not planning to rush off or anything. I'm just curious."

Dumbledore gave Harry a small smile. "Nothing, I'm afraid. I have theories of course, but there have been no solid leads."

"Do you think it's possible he could have been hiding at the Malfoy manor?"

"Very possible. Last I heard of poor Evra Tome, she was going to do a little investigating there. She believed she could make it look as though she had wandered in by accident."

"So Evra Tome worked for the Order?"

Dumbledore gave a short nod and placed his finger to his lips thoughtfully. Harry got the message though. _Don't mention that fact to anyone. _"What made you think of the Malfoy Manor, Harry?"

"It's something Draco Malfoy said. He acted like he was joking, but I think he was serious. Do you think he could be-" Harry could hardly believe he was saying this. "trying to help us? Trying to switch sides or turn spy or something? Like Snape did."

"I wish I knew," Dumbledore said wearily and sank into the chair behind the teacher's desk. "The Malfoy Manor was searched thoroughly several times after Lucius Malfoy's escape from Azkaban, but only once this summer. It's possible Voldemort moved in after the last raid."

"Or maybe he was hiding under the manor? The Malfoy's have a hidden chamber under their drawing room."

If Dumbledore thought it was strange that Harry knew about hidden chambers in a house he had never entered, he did not show it. "Arthur Weasley made sure that was searched, but that particular room is hardly bigger than my office and not large enough to hide twenty Death Eaters as well Voldemort. This thing Mr. Malfoy said?"

Harry recounted Draco's comments in the forum as best he could. "I think it might be worth checking out," Harry finished.

"As do I," Dumbledore agreed. "However, the Malfoy Manor would not be nearly as easy to assault as the Riddle Manor was." Harry tried not to grimace. He did not remember anything about the assault on the Riddle Manor being easy. Wizards had died. Dumbledore continued, "Voldemort relied mainly on secrecy before. The protections he had set up around the Riddle House were many but new and limited because the building was Muggle in origin. The Malfoy manor is a very old wizarding home, and the magic defending it is very old and deep. If Lucius Malfoy is able to make full use of its defenses, it will be very difficult to mount a proper invasion. Not impossible, but exceedingly difficult."

"Maybe he's trying to lead us into a trap then," Harry said.

Dumbledore nodded again. He sank back more deeply into the chair. Harry was suddenly struck with concern for his headmaster. Dumbledore looked beyond weary. He looked exhausted. Almost every time Harry had tried to contact Dumbledore in his previous years at Hogwarts, he had been told that the Headmaster was busy. He had always assumed the people telling him this simply did not wanted to give him the special privilege of circumventing the normal rituals of communicating with the administration. While logically he knew Dumbledore probably was busy, at least on some of these occasions, it never occurred to him that the duties of headmaster alone could keep someone constantly busy. But then, perhaps they could, and compounded with the duties of organizing the Order of the Phoenix, advising the new minister of magic, and the newest role of Dark Arts Professor… Dumbledore had been re-offered his positions on the Wizengamot and the International Confederation of Wizards after the ministry had been forced to accept the reality of Voldemort's return, but Dumbledore had declined them. This had confused Harry at the time, but now he understood. Dumbledore, while at one hundred and fifty something, was hardly ready to retire, but he was not a young man by any stretch. Even a young man would be stretched to juggle so many roles.

He felt a strange impulse to hug Dumbledore or send him to bed. Instead he put his hands in his pockets.

"I've considered that possibility as well," Dumbledore said. "Unfortunately, I have more questions than answers. Have you had an opportunity to speak with Persephone, Harry?"

Harry was momentarily thrown by the sudden switch in the conversation. "Yeah," he said, not quite meeting Dumbledore's eyes. It wasn't exactly a lie. He had spoken to Persephone, just not in the way he knew that Dumbledore meant.

"Do you have any questions?" Dumbledore asked.

"No, not at the moment," Harry said. This of course was a complete lie, but he could not bring himself to burden or disappoint Dumbledore anymore than necessary at the moment. "I think I understand." He would just have to talk to Persephone very soon.

It showed just how tired Dumbledore was that he did not give Harry so much as a curious glance at this. "I don't suppose she's given you any insights into Mr. Malfoy?"

Harry shook his head. He hesitated again but decided that perhaps some things could not wait. "Hermione thinks she may have some influence over him."

"That's almost certain," Dumbledore said with a small smile. "But to what degree?" Dumbledore drew himself up again, and Harry saw that students were beginning to seep in for the next class.

"Thank you for your time, Headmaster," Harry said and hurriedly snatched up his books and left the classroom.

o

* * *

o

Harry doubted that he passed Persephone in the hall anymore than he did any other student, but everything about her from her appearance to her personality to the chatter that usually surrounded her was so loud, he noticed her more when she passed. When he didn't notice her, Hermione's pursed lips or Ron's snort usually alerted him to her presence.

When he, Ron, Hermione, Neville, and Luna retreated to the library one evening for a quiet study session, he noticed her instantly because of the loud peal of laughter. Harry spotted Persephone sitting on one of the library tables, her feet in a chair. Peeves, the school poltergeist, was telling her a long, loud story, complete with sound effects, impersonations, and little dances in the air. Madam Pince was watching them with a very thin lipped, disapproving expression.

For a second, the five of them stood in stunned silence. Peeves made a squashy, toad like face and let out a loud croak. Persephone clapped and broke into a fresh peel of laughter.

Hermione let out an I-can't-believe-this grunt and perfunctorily straightened her prefect badge. "I'll go talk to her," she told Madam Pince.

"Don't you _dare_!" Madam Pince hissed, her arm shot across the desk to grab Hermione by the robes with a shocking speed for such an elderly woman. Hermione's eyes went round with shock. "Peeves was in a right state before she got in here. I've just finished cleaning up the mess." She waved her wand at Hermione, as if to show that the damaged had been so great she was forced to resort to magic. "You leave that girl alone," she said sternly and released Hermione's robe.

Harry wondered if they should go elsewhere to study, but Hermione led them trance-like to a table at the far end of the library. Hermione was usually on good terms with Madam Pince, and Harry was sure being reprimanded by her twice in a few weeks time was unsettling for her.

"Oh, they didn't!" Persephone said very loudly. Neville set his sickly Fanged Geranium on the table and made a noble attempt to start on his Herbology assignment. Ron opened his Dark Arts Text, though Harry did not think he was actually reading it. Luna spread out her Arithmancy chart and began making notes as though the library was no noisier than usual. Hermione was not even pretending to study but staring openly at Peeves and Persephone. Harry, who did not like Peeves, tried to follow Ron's lead and open his Dark Arts text, but he found himself listening anyway. From what he could make out, with the repeated references to Umbridge and a swamp in a corridor, Peeves was relating the Weasley's twin's dramatic departure from Hogwarts of two years past.

He knew it was not the story that held Hermione rapt; after all she had been there for most of it. It was the questions that kept issuing from Persephone, and the fact that Peeves, who normally did everything in his power to avoid a straight answer, was answering every one. Granted he was answering in his own way, which generally involved exaggerations and rude noises, but he was still being more responsive than Harry had ever seen him be with a student. Of course, he reflected as Persephone let out another loud laugh, most students found Peeves more annoying than funny. Peeves probably was not used to being applauded.

"I don't believe this," Hermione muttered at last.

"Hermione, let's just leave. I can't study like this," Ron said, closing his book.

Harry caught Luna looking rather disappointed, though she covered it quickly. "Why don't we go to the courtyard?" Harry suggested.

"But it's boiling," Neville said.

"I'm sure it's all right in the shade," said Harry. Neville mournfully gathered his books back up and considered his geranium as though trying to decide whether the fresh air would do it more good or harm. Luna gave Harry a quick, grateful smile and started humming.

"Fine, let's go," Hermione said huffily. She muttered out loud as they descended the stairs towards the courtyard. "If she's got so much influence over Peeves, you'd think she could have the decency to lead him out into the hall. It's so absurd. She's even gotten to Madam Pince. She's so fake, that laugh was so fake. Peeves isn't that funny."

"I think she's nice," Neville said. Hermione turned on him, and his ears went slightly pink. "And I don't think she's fake," Neville continued, struggling to stare Hermione down. "She just enjoys people a little more than you do. I don't think there's anything wrong with that."

"She doesn't like me," Luna said loftily, as though gaining Persephone's dislike was a special honor, and did not break stride, forcing the rest of them to follow her if they wanted hear more. "I think I make her nervous, because I know what she is."

"And what is she?" Neville demanded.

"Puffy haired nutter," Ron muttered.

"She's a Silver Child," Luna said in the same I-know-something-you-don't voice she had used before.

"Well, I knew that," Neville said, sounding irritable. Luna blinked her pop eyes and looked a little more surprised than usual. "Ginny told me," he explained. "It's not like that's a big secret."

Hermione gave Harry a significant look, and Harry rolled his eyes when her back was turned.

o

* * *

o

Harry felt that he barely had time to turn around before it was Thursday again. It seemed horribly unfair that when he wanted to take lots of time to enjoy his last year at Hogwarts, needed more time for his increasing workload, that time decided to speed by even faster. The only nice thing about it being Thursday again so soon, is that it meant that it would soon be Friday again. All he had on Fridays was Care of Magical Creatures, and it seemed that Harry's faith in Hagrid as a teacher was finally paying off. Hagrid was doing a much better job of balancing his love of interesting creatures with his students need to prepare for their N.E.W.T.s and O.W.L.s. While Ron seemed morally offended that Hagrid was now assigning regular homework, "He gave us an essay. _Hagrid _gave us an essay!" Harry felt that it showed Hagrid was becoming a well-rounded teacher. Hermione was beaming with so much pride over him, you would have thought she set Hagrid's lesson plan. And then, just as suddenly it was Tuesday again and time for the next Forum.

Hermione joined Harry and Ron that evening at dinner with a rattling box full of what Harry was sure were S.P.E.W. badges. "You mean, you're going back to the meeting tonight?" Ron asked.

"Of course, I'm going," Hermione said.

"So am I," Harry said.

Ron stabbed moodily at his steak and kidney pie, but in the end, he said he was coming too. Harry had a feeling that Ron still had not forgiven Persephone for not spying properly on their Quidditch practice. At the moment, he was in Neville's camp. Three more people had come up to him today saying they were going to say Voldemort's proper name from now on, and several others had said they hoped he came tonight. He liked her. So what if she was wilting Draco Malfoy? If anyone deserved it, he did.

To his surprise, Luna joined them after dinner, and the lot of them made their way up to the Arithmancy lab. They arrived fifteen minutes early, but the tables were already far more crowded than they had been at the last meeting. Ginny waved at them from across the room. Harry smiled and waved back. The Slytherins were still crowding around the same far table, but—it Harry took a moment to be sure—Malfoy was missing. He glanced at Hermione, but she was pouring over a set of notes, which he saw contained the word "elf" several times. Ron and Luna were conversing in whispers.

"Hi, Harry!" Persephone bounced over to him and took the seat beside him. "Had a good day?" She was beaming, clearly proud of the increased turn out.

"It was all right," Harry said. "Where's Malfoy?"

Persephone hesitated for a fraction of a second. "He has a lot of homework to do. Six classes, you know."

"Hermione takes eight," Ron said with a hint of pride.

"Really?" Persephone said and turned to Hermione with a light laugh. "When do you sleep? Oh, are those the badges?" Her eyes scanned Hermione's notes. "I completely lost track of time last week. I really meant to give you a good fifteen minutes or so, but I guess it all worked out, didn't it? I mean there's loads more people this time. I'll try to make sure you have the floor first."

"Oh…um…thanks," Hermione said. The hum of tension that had been wound tightly around her all week noticeably softened.

"So are you usually fond of poltergeists?" Luna asked tactlessly.

"Pardon?" If the way her brow furrowed was any indication, Persephone really did not like Luna. Not that Harry could blame her, if Luna started every conversation that way.

"Well, you seemed to be rather friendly with Peeves in the library," Luna said.

"Oh, well, Peeves isn't that bad as Poltergeists go," Persephone said with a shrug.

"What do you mean?" Harry asked.

"Well, you know what a poltergeist _is_ don't you?"

Harry shook his head. "Type of ghost isn't it?" Ron said.

"They really have had shabby Dark Arts teachers recently, haven't they?" Persephone said with a shake of her head. "A ghost is a wizard. The body is merely an impression, but the soul and all is intact. A poltergeist is the result of specific set of spells where a wizard tries to leave parts of themselves behind before they die. All their bad thoughts and negative emotions, they try to cut them away so their souls have a better chance of peace in the after life. Normally the people desperate enough to try to chop off bits of their own soul are pretty despicable to begin with, so poltergeist are often made up of the very worst bits of the very worst wizards."

"Does it work?" Harry asked. "Can you actually cut out all your bad parts like that?"

Persephone shrugged. "I don't think anyone knows for sure. But it can't be good Karma creating something that is only undesirable qualities. It's generally considered to be dark magic."

"Lovely, and why do we have one of these things in the school?"

"I'm sure Dumbledore has his reasons," Luna said. "They completely escape me, but I'm sure he has them."

"He probably wants to give us experience dealing with one," said Hermione.

"I think that may have something to do with it," Persephone agreed. "But mainly I think it's for the ghosts. They can't touch anything, so Peeves can act like hands for them."

Harry remembered a few years back when Nearly-headless Nick had gotten Peeves to drop a cabinet to distract Filch so Harry could make an escape. He had not thought much about it at the time, but… "But ghosts can touch things," Harry said. "Professor Binns writes things on the chalk board and grades papers. How could he do that without—?"

"Have you ever actually seen him touch the chalk or the papers?" Persephone interrupted. Harry thought. He had…hadn't he? Surely he had, but as he thought about it, he was not so sure. "After Binns died, they set up spells for him that react to voice commands. The chalk works a bit like a dictation quill. And then he has enchanted gloves that sort his paperwork for him, and an enchanted quill for grading. And that paper box on his desk has a switching spell with another one in his office. It's really rather ingenious all things they set up for him."

"So Binns does have an office?" Ron said, sounding intrigued. "You ever been in there?"

"Once," Persephone said. "The dust was awful. I sneezed for hours afterwards."

"But what about Myrtle?" Harry said. "She floods the girls bathroom from time to time."

Persephone's face clouded with concern. "Does she? Oh dear, that's not good."

"Maybe she's part poltergeist," Luna said.

"Don't be silly," Hermione sniffed without looking up from her notes. She had started reviewing again.

"It's the other way around isn't it? Poltergeist are part ghosts…Hang on," Ron said. "If a poltergeist is only half a ghost, how come it can touch things when ghosts can't?"

"Natural emotional based magic," Persephone said. "Like how untrained wizards can do magic when they're particularly angry or scared. Ghosts have all their good emotions and rational thoughts to keep what powers they have left in check, but a poltergeist just has the negative ones. Peeves is exceptionally rational as they go. A lot of them aren't much more than randomly destructive, malevolent forces." She pinched her lowered lip thoughtfully.

"Sounds like Peeves to me," Ron said.

"I feel a bit sorry for Peeves," Persephone said. "How horrible it's gotta be, knowing that you're made up of all the rejected parts of someone. I'm glad he's got a sense of humor."

"I've never found him funny," Luna said.

Persephone cast her a quick annoyed glance and shrugged. "He has his moments. The wizard he came from was a court jester, and Peeves inherited his ego along with his sense of humor, both of which got him into a bit of trouble. But it does mean that Peeves will try to please his audience if properly flattered."

"How do you know all that?" Ron asked.

"The Bloody Baron told me. Peeves was his jester."

"That's why the baron can control him," Harry surmised.

Persephone nodded. "He also retained that wizard's fear of the baron."

"Why so worried about Myrtle?" Luna asked finally starting to sound conversational rather than confrontational. "Afraid she's going to turn into a boggart?"

Hermione dropped her notes. She gave Luna a hard stare as if to say that she had had enough of her nonsense. "Ghosts do not turn into boggarts. Boggarts are shape shifters. We _did_ study them in Defense Against the Dark Arts."

"Actually," Persephone said in a soft, calming tone. "They can, and that's exactly what I'm worried about."

Hermione's expression softened with disbelief, and she was momentarily speechless. Ron's mouth was hanging open, and even Luna looked a bit surprised that someone had agreed with her.

"It's a type of natural magic. If a ghost becomes overwhelmed by their own anger or sorrow and left to dwell on it to the point that it out weighs their rational self, they become something similar to a poltergeist able to move objects with their rage, and if nothing intervenes they can eventually turn into a full boggart, able to maintain an almost physical body by feeding off the strong emotions of others…generally fear, since it's the strongest and easiest thing for them to inspire. They become empathic, low level mind readers, which allows them to know what form will create the greatest response in their victims."

"That can't be true," Hermione said breathily. "The text book didn't say…that can't be true. He would have _said_ if they were ghosts."

"The text books didn't really say anything about where boggarts came from," Ron said thoughtfully. "Just how to recognize and deal with them."

"I don't think it's common knowledge," Persephone said.

"But, we—" Hermione was starting to look slightly horrified. "They can't be ghosts. We've killed them. We killed one in class. Laughter kills them, you can't kill a ghost."

To Harry surprise, Persephone laughed. "You can't kill a boggart."

"Can so," Ron said defensively. "_Riddikulus_ charm, Professor Lupin taught us."

"That doesn't kill them," Persephone said, still giggling a bit. "It just sort of disperses them. That little silver puff is them dispersing. They come back together after a while." She sobered. "That's why it seems like there's so many of them. Wizard gets rid of one and finds another a few weeks or months or even years later, but it's probably the same one they displaced the first time."

Harry nodded. Professor Lupin had found another a boggart in the castle a few months after the class had turned the first one into a whispy puff. He wondered if it had been the same boggart that he faced in the Triwizard maze.

"Can they turn back into ghosts again?" Hermione asked.

"Theoretically," Persephone said. "Though I imagine it's difficult. They're basically irrational by that point, feeding on a steady diet of fear, getting all disoriented again every time some one uses a _Riddikulus_ charm on them. It's probably better to stop the process up front, that's why I try to spend time with Myrtle."

"You spend time with Moaning Myrtle?" Ron said, exchanging a look with Hermione.

"Not as much as I should, poor thing," said Persephone.

"I wouldn't want to spend time with her," Luna said. "She's rather odd."

Harry thought it was a bit of a laugh for Luna to being calling someone odd, but he got the impression from the set of Persephone's chin that she did not find Luna's comment funny. He decided to change the subject. "So what's up for this meeting?"

Persephone was happy to be distracted. "Well, the house-elves of course, and then I was thinking we might pick up from last week and try to answer some of those questions about Voldemort. I want to sort through the recent history, try to figure out how strong he is and the best way to take him down."

"So you don't like him do you?" Harry said, tossing his own pointed look at Ron.

"That would be putting it mildly. He's the common enemy. I think we'll all get along a lot better if we focus on that."

"It's not just him," Ron said firmly. "There's also the Death Eaters, the dementors, probably some giants."

"I think we're better off without the dementors," Luna said.

"I don't like dementors," Persephone said with theatric shudder. "I was always shocked the Ministry used them. You don't want to know what those things are made of."

"Made of?" Harry said.

"Dementors are constructs," Persephone said. "Takes some really powerful dark magic rituals to put one together. You really don't want to know."

"Why not?" Ron asked. "You're not going to tell us they're ghosts too."

"No, dementors don't have souls. Not ones of their own at any rate." Persephone's silver eyebrows knitted. "They're like black holes for anything good and light. There's nothing good in them by design, nothing redeemable. The ritual to make one starts with a wizard's corpse and then it gets rather unpleasant from there." Ron made a face.

"You know how to make a dementor?" Hermione breathed looking slightly aghast.

Persephone was looking at the table and missed her expression. "In theory. I doubt I could actually pull it off, even if I wanted to. I don't think anyone's made one in five hundred years or so. Not since Metus Fabricador, he's the dark wizard who came up with them, but he certainly made enough of them. He left notes on his process, but I can't image why anyone would ever want to make more. They take a lot out of their maker, and they're difficult to control, likely to turn on their masters. Really hard to kill."

"Can they be killed?" Harry asked.

"Theoretically, but I couldn't tell you how. I don't think the Ministry could figure it out, that's why they put them to guarding Azkaban. That might be a worthwhile project though," she said thoughtfully. "If we could figure out a more effective way to fight them, that would do loads of good."

"Sort of an expert on dark creatures, aren't you?" Ron said.

Persephone shook her head. "Oh, no, not really. I do know an awful lot about Vampires though. I think they're really fascinating. Oliver got me a book on dark creature rituals cause it had a chapter on them. That's where I picked up most of those bits on the dementors and so on."

"Persephone, it's eight!" A voice shouted from the Slytherin table.

"Right, Chess, thanks!" Persephone gave Harry another broad smile and hopped to her feet. "Ready Hermione?"

Hermione was of course ready. Making passionate speeches about house-elf rights was one of her favorite things to do. Harry and Ron had heard all her arguments so many times that they tuned them out automatically. Harry watched the crowd instead. The students listened politely at first…well, most of them did. Some of the Slytherins were whispering and snickering. Then there was the general debate about whether the house-elves were happy, was this really an important issue, and why on earth was the organization called _spew_?

"It's not _spew_. It's S.P.E.W." Oddly enough it was Persephone rather than Hermione that said this. "It's an acronym, and what we're using until we find one we like better." Harry thought it a little odd that she said _we_, because to his knowledge she had never bought a badge. "Besides it's not the name that's important, it's the mission. We _should _guarantee some basic rights to house-elves." Persephone's approach to house-elf rights was far more moderate than Hermione's from what Harry could make out, but she still would not allow the group to leave the subject for a good thirty minutes. A few people even looked moderately interested, but most of the crowd looked progressively bored, even irritated. They had not come to talk about house-elves. They had come to discuss Voldemort.

At length the conversation turned to Voldemort and with some reluctance his Death Eaters. Hermione still was not willing to let Harry fill in details of Voldemort's past, so the other students were focusing on trying to assess his strength. With the air of someone slating executions, Persephone wrote the names of known Death Eaters on the black board as other students provided them. Harry watched the faces of various Slytherins as their parents' names were mentioned. It was then that he noticed Pansy Parkinson had not come to the meeting either. Crabbe and Goyle were there. Their expressions were dull and unreadable as their father's names were called. Harry thought they looked like two heavy bookends missing their book. Theodore Nott made it very clear that Death Eater Hasdrubal Nott was his _uncle_ and gave Harry a very nasty look.

And then they started marking the names. 'D' for dead, 'A' for Azkaban, and a question mark for missing or location unknown. D. A. D. A. ?. ?. ?. Seamus Finnigan caught Harry's eye, and Harry knew what he was thinking. _Had she ordered them that way on purpose? _Harry shrugged with his eyebrows. He thought it unlikely, since the list had been created by students yelling names as they came to mind. He knew Ron was pressing his lips together so tightly to stop himself from yelling out _Severus Snape_. ?. D. ?. ?. ?. D. D. ?. ?. A. A. A. ?. ?. ?. D. D. The pattern became irregular, though patches of 'D's, 'A's, and questions marks were sticking together because they were pulled from the same Prophet article.

By the end of the list, he thought Persephone looked a little white, though her voice stayed clear as she asked one of the Ravenclaws to make a copy on parchment and wiped the board. Then they made a list of non-humans (though this one came as types rather than names) such as dementors, giants, vampires, and trolls that might be joining Lord Voldemort. Very reluctantly, Persephone added werewolves to the list at the insistence of several other students, but she out right refused to put goblins on the board. Harry finally opened his mouth to back her up on this and found it strange, as he often did despite his head boy badge, that people listened to him.

He was fairly certain that every detail of these meetings would make their way back to Voldemort's ears, not necessarily because of Persephone, but because Crabbe and Goyle obviously had not come to the meetings to participate and Indigo Stump was making notes the entire time.

The goblin's loyalties were still very vague, and Harry did not want to offend them by accusing them of supporting Voldemort without some very hard proof, even if it was just a student meeting. Maybe his support for the goblins would reach their ears through students' letters homes. He could picture the headlines now **Harry Potter Has Faith in Goblins**. Good, let them write it. He wanted to apply the advice Felix had given him last year, _You should use your fame instead of letting it use you_.

Hermione was giving him a very approving smile. She had been extremely vocal during the werewolf debate but seemed to think Harry had this well in hand.

And then the conversation turned to each set of creatures in turn and the best ways to defend against them. Harry had thought at first that Hermione might try to keep him silent like she had about Voldemort, but she seemed to think these were safe topics since they did not deal with any secret Order of the Phoenix or D.A. information. It was a good thing, because he had a fair bit to say about dementors. Ron gave a nice long speech on how to subdue giants without actually killing them, and it turned out Persephone did know a rather frightening amount about vampires.

Ten o'clock came even faster than it had last time. It was five after when Harry looked at his watch, started, and called a stop to the meeting. They returned to their common rooms in large groups, continuing to buzz with loud conversation, and clinging to the logic that Filch could not possibly put _everyone_ in detention.

o

* * *

o

The first Hogsmeade trip was announced for the weekend preceding Halloween, and Ron, Hermione, and Harry put in an extra effort to keep up with their homework so they would not have to miss it. Hogsmeade itself had worn off much of its wonder by sixth year, but Fred and George had promised to meet them at The Three Broomsticks. Hoping for some news of Voldemort or the Order or anything (the _Prophet_ had been disappointingly dry since start of term), Ron and Harry had joined Hermione at a common room table on Saturday, staying up late to finish their Transfiguration essays and practice conjuring teacups so that McGonagall would not be tempted to assign them extra homework.

Ginny posed lazily on the couch while Dean Thomas sketched her. A rather talented fifth year was playing a nice drifty melody on his lute. A group of second year girls were engaged in Bob and Bauble, a board game that consisted of levitating, gem like playing pieces and did not seem to require any great skill. A few younger students were taking up Harry, Ron, and Hermione's favorite seats by the fire and having a low conversation, but otherwise the common room was fairly deserted.

"Well, it's part of a cup," Ron said with a sigh and vanished the failed attempt. Hermione had managed to conjure some hot water as well as her china blue cup and was dipping a tea bag into it. Harry was having difficulty concentrating and had managed somehow to conjure a few fresh tealeaves but no cup. He envied Ron's handle but felt satisfied that he had at least finished his essay first.

When they took a break, Hermione got them all cups and hot water, and their conversation turned back to the D.A. and the Forum. Hermione wanted Harry to set another meeting, but Harry was in no hurry. Some first and second year students had told him the Friday Study Group was putting a lot of emphasis on their Defense Against the Dark Arts lessons, which were more challenging than they had ever been. Professor Snape's Dueling Club was infinitely more popular than Professor Lockhart's had ever been. Though this probably had less to do with Snape's charming personality and more to do with fact he was not completely incompetent. Snape had been in a genuinely good mood as the term progressed. Probably because the Dueling Club was as close as he had come to teaching a regular Defense Against the Dark Arts class. Harry still did not like Snape, but he was finding him slightly more tolerable. It had been quite a shock to overhear a few non-Slytherin first years say that Snape was their favorite teacher. It was less of shock to hear that several members of the Dueling Club were becoming genuinely frightened of Victoria Dey. From the imperious way she passed in the halls, Harry gathered she was enjoying her success.

What it all meant was that the first and second years were getting a thorough grounding and the third through fifth years were getting ample experience in Defense Against the Dark Arts. The sixth and seventh year D.A. members had formed several small study groups. Harry did not see much point in having meetings at the moment. The Forum was performing as a basic information gathering function, and Harry did not have anything more specific to tell the D.A. members.

"Maybe _that's_ what she's up to," Ron said. "Trying to take away our reasons for keeping up the D.A., hoping we'll give up on it."

"By creating clubs to perform the same function?" Harry said doubtfully. "It's not a plan that really smacks of evil genius, is it?"

"I don't know if she's evil," Ron said. "But that doesn't make her trustworthy either."

"What do you think, Hermione? Still think she's working for Voldemort?"

"Oh, I don't know what to think about her," Hermione admitted. Ron fell off his chair so naturally that it took Harry a moment to realize he had done it on purpose. "Droll, Ron. I think Harry might have a point, but then again, that doesn't make her necessarily a good guy. Dumbledore said 'unpredictable', right?"

"Lets look at this from the reverse angle," Harry said. "Instead of asking _why should we trust her_, maybe we should ask, _why shouldn't we trust her_?"

"She's a Slytherin, mate," Ron said as if this explained everything.

"I wonder why she's in Slytherin," Hermione said thoughtfully.

"Wha'd'ya mean?"

"I mean that I wonder if she was sorted or if she simply got assigned to Slytherin because Addy Flint left a vacancy?"

Harry put his teacup down very slowly. "What do you mean, Addy Flint left a vacancy?"

"Well, since she didn't come back to Hogwarts this year there would be room in the Slytherin sixth year girls dorm," said Hermione, taking a sip from her own cup.

"Why didn't anyone tell me Addy Flint was gone?" Harry asked sharply. Ron shrugged to say that he had not known.

Hermione looked puzzled. "I thought I did tell you…or maybe I just thought about telling you. Sorry. Do you think it's important?"

"The daughter of a known Death Eater disappears, and you don't think it's important?"

"She didn't disappear," Hermione said. "She transferred to Beauxbatons. And I didn't say it's not important, but I'd still like to know whether Persephone was sorted or not. It might help explain things."

"Oh, she was sorted," Ginny said from the couch. They all jumped a bit. Harry had not realized she might be listening.

"How d'you know?" Ron asked.

"She told me," Ginny said, twisting about. "Honestly, I can't believe you're still worried about her. I've been thinking about inviting her to a D.A. meeting."

"I'm not sure that's such a good idea yet," Hermione said.

"Why don't you let me be the one to ask her, Ginny," Harry said to cut off the debate.

Ginny grinned suggestively at him. "Sure thing, Harry. Why don't you ask her to meet you in Hogsmeade while you're at it?"

Harry grimaced. Ron rolled his eyes and muttered, "Oh, please."

"Oh come on," Ginny said. "She still likes you. She was thrilled by what you said about Goblins. She talked about it so much in Potions, Snape made her stay after class."

"You know I never thought about asking him about her," Hermione said softly.

"You know, Hermione, I think she favors you a bit," Ginny said.

"What?" Hermione looked surprised. Ron frowned.

"Yeah, she does a bit," said Dean thoughtfully. He tapped his closed sketchbook against his chin, having despaired of Ginny staying still long enough for him to finish.

Harry looked at Hermione and failed to see a resemblance beyond them both being young Caucasian females. Hermione was a year or two older and several inches taller than Persephone, with thinner features and more normal coloring. "If you're talking about my hair—" she began tersely

"No, your hair's really tame by comparison," Ginny said dismissively. "It's more expressions and mannerisms. Like that thing you do with your eyebrows."

Hermione scowled. "What thing I do with my eyebrows?"

"That's it!" Ginny said, pointing. "That look you get when you think something isn't quite right. Persephone does that."

"She does do that, doesn't she?" Dean agreed with an expert nod. "And the thing where she always has her hand in the air." He stretched his arm up to demonstrate. Hermione puffed her cheeks out as she was trying very hard not to scowl. Dean laughed. "Don't worry, Hermione, I think we'll still be able to keep you straight. Night all."

"It's not a bad thing," Ginny said as Dean disappeared up the stairs, and she joined them at the table. "She's not bad looking."

"I don't see it," Ron said loyally.

Ginny shrugged. "Harry, you really ought to think about Hogsmeade. It's your last year. You should try to enjoy it as much as you can."

"I'm going to Hogsmeade," Harry said.

"Oh, you're hopeless. I'm going to bed too," said Ginny, shaking her head so that her shoulder length red hair whipped out to either side.

"I do not look like her," Hermione muttered under her breath after Ginny had gone.

"I don't see it either," Harry told her.

Hedwig brought Harry a letter the next morning. The handwriting looked familiar, though he could not place it until he opened the envelope and saw the signature. "It's from Cho," he said.

Ron and Hermione looked up with interest. "What does she say?" Hermione asked evenly.

Harry scanned the letter. "She's moving to China," he said dully. "If I'm reading between the lines correctly, it's stuff for the Order."

"Dumbledore wanted to recruit as many foreign wizards as possible," Hermione said with a smart nod.

"Still, rather a stiff letter isn't it?" Ron said after he had read it. Harry shrugged. It was a little matter of fact in his opinion, but he found this did not bother him as much as it might once have. "Well, good riddance," Ron said as if it was the best thing that could have happened to Harry.

"I'm sure she's not gone _forever_," Hermione said bracingly.

Harry shrugged again. "It's not like there was really anything between us," he said. _She was just my first crush_, _my first kiss_, _my only kiss._ "She was nice enough to send me a letter. She didn't have to write me." _It was considerate of her._ _I wasn't her first anything._

"Exactly," Hermione said, shooting a stifling look at Ron.

o

* * *

o

Crookshanks had been looking a bit shabbier than usual, so after breakfast Hermione retrieved him from Gryffindor tower, and they headed to Hagrid's. They met Persephone coming back in from the grounds, her cheeks flushed slightly pink. The air had switched a few days ago to normal October crispness.

"Hallo!" she said brightly.

"Wotcher," said Harry.

Hermione opened her mouth, but Crookshanks took that moment to let out a loud yowl and start hissing. Persephone stepped backed, wide-eyed as Crookshanks alternated between flailing a claw at her and trying to scramble over Hermione's shoulder. "Crookshanks!" Hermione yelped reprovingly. He was making a great deal of noise, yowling and hissing as she tried to calm him. He did not stop until Persephone had backed a good six feet away. Even then he fixed her with a vicious stare and made a low warning sound. "I'm sorry," Hermione said, because Persephone looked shaken and close to tears. "He's usually better behaved than that."

"Persephone!" Pansy Parkinson shouted from the top of the marble stairs, and looking relieved for the escape, she hurried away.

"Naughty, Crookshanks," Hermione said soothingly as they continued towards Hagrid's hut.

"Well, now, we _know_ there's something not right about her," Ron said.

"I don't know," Hermione said as she stroked the ginger cat with her cheek, no conviction in her voice.

"Crookshanks had Scabbers figured out before the rest of us," Ron said with conviction.

"Yeah," Harry said. "He also nearly clawed _us_ to death that time in the cab. No telling what spooked him. He's a rather peculiar cat. No offense, Hermione."

"Well, he did take a dislike to my cousin Herbert," Hermione said, still looking uncertain.

"You got a cousin Herbert?"

Hermione stepped forward and rapped on Hagrid's door. There was a burst of loud barking and too late they remembered Fang. Crookshanks let out a particularly shrill screech, twisted loose of Hermione's grasp, and shot across the lawn. Hermione let out a moan and ran after him. Ron ran after her. Harry started to chase after them but decided someone ought to let Hagrid know what had happened. A second or two later, Hagrid opened the door.

"Lo there, Harry," Hagrid said and caught sight of Ron chasing Hermione across the grounds. He watched them with a peculiar expression for a few seconds.

"We were bringing Crookshanks to see you, and he got away," Harry explained.

"I see," Hagrid said, his beard twitching. "Well, cats and dogs…By the way, I heard Persephone's been causin' a bit of a stir. You need ter tell her ter be careful, Harry."

"_I_ need to tell her?"

"I figure she might listen to you," Hagrid said. "Piece of work, that one. Getting' the Slytherins worked up when she oughta be keepin'er head down."

"I like what she's doing with the forum," Harry said firmly.

"Trouble, the lot of yeh," Hagrid said with a grin and a resigned shake of his head. Ron and Hermione had stopped running, and Hermione was kneeling down and trying to coax Crookshanks towards her.

"Just getting old I'm afraid," Hagrid told her later, after they had managed to get Crookshanks calmed down and far away from Fang. "He wasn'no kitten when you bought'im."

o

* * *

o

"Neville, what are you doing?" Ron asked later that night at dinner.

Neville was shaking so much pepper on a bite-sized piece of chicken that it was turning black. His sickly Fanged Geranium was looking worse than ever and drooping its petals towards the plate. "Persephone suggested giving him pepper. Not sure it'll work, but I'm getting desperate."

"I'm still not sure why you're trying to keep that thing alive in the first place," said Ron.

"The seeds are used in Nerve Regenerative Potions," Neville said calmly. "But it won't seed if it doesn't get stronger."

"Oh," Ron said, looking a little surprised to get a perfectly reasonable answer. Harry chuckled.

o

* * *

o

Dumbledore had them attempting Patronuses in Defense Against the Dark Arts. Harry could not help looking smug as several members of the D.A. managed to produce a full corporeal Patronus on the first attempt and left the Slytherins gaping. Draco Malfoy was having a particularly hard time with the spell and could not get much more than a few silver sparks to come out of his wand.

Harry was having a little better luck with conjuring, although his teacups looked more like coffee mugs. In Flitwick's class they had started a section on Protean Charms, which Hermione had mastered back in their fifth year. Snape had them brewing Wolfsbane in Potions, a project that promised to occupy them until Halloween, and Hagrid was hinting about something "interesting" for Friday's lesson.

Harry half-considered skipping the third Forum to work on some of his projects, but curiosity got the better of him. The Arithmancy lab was nearly as crowded as it had been the week before. Harry was a little surprised to see that Draco Malfoy had returned, though he still had the look of wanting to be elsewhere. Draco noticed Harry too and watched him for a while as he, Ron, and Hermione found seats. He did look slightly drawn, wilted, and Harry felt a short-lived flash of guilt for having dismissed him before. Why had he had so much trouble with the Patronus?

Neville had joined them this time. His Fanged Geranium had made a full recovery, and he was giving himself the night off from nursing it. "It worked!" he said happily as Persephone wandered up to them. She had her hands clasped and was humming absently.

"What did?" she asked sitting down on her knees and putting her elbows on the table in a posture more appropriate to ten-year-old than a teenager.

"The pepper," Neville said.

"Oh," Persephone said, looking as though she had not the faintest idea what he was talking about. "I'm glad." She continued humming, not quite looking at any of them. Ron was giving her a surly glare. Harry was confused by this until he recognized the tune Persephone was humming.

"Weasley is Our King" had become a Gryffindor fight song, but it had started life quite differently. For its lack of musical brilliance, it had all the enduring qualities of a particularly annoying jingle. It was not unusual for it to be heard being hummed absently by students at odd intervals in the school corridors, picked up and passed along from one unwitting host to another. Harry had caught himself humming it during a few unguarded moments, but he knew it took on a completely different quality when being hummed by a Slytherin, particularly for Ron.

"What's on the agenda today?" Harry asked, trying to stop her from humming.

Persephone shrugged. "Je n'a pas d'idée. Les occasions sont interminables." Harry blinked. At least she had stopped humming.

"Is that French?" Hermione asked.

"Oui," Persephone said brightening. "Parlez-vous le français?"

"Je sais un peu," Hermione responded.

Persephone clapped her hands. "Merveilleux, où avez-vous appris?"

"J'ai dépensé un été en France," Hermione said, and then abruptly switched back to English. "Where did you learn it?"

"I've been taking lessons since I was six," said Persephone with a broad smile. "You know what's sad? I've never been to France. Oh, I would love to go to another the country some day."

"You're _from_ another country," said Ron.

"Well, I mean go to one that isn't English speaking," she amended. "You know that's one big problem I've always seen with the Hogwarts education, there are no foreign language classes."

"There's Ancient Ruines," Neville said. "That's a bit like a language class."

"I don't think dead languages should count," Persephone said. "I mean the Muggle schools all have foreign language departments. Why not us?"

"I suppose it's because Hogwarts focuses on teaching subject matter unique to the wizarding experience," Hermione said thoughtfully.

"How about classes in magical languages? Things Muggles won't study like Mermish and Gobbledegook."

"Dumbledore speaks Mermish," Harry said.

"I wish I knew a little Giant," Ron murmured, and Luna giggled.

"See, there's a student interest," Persephone said, completely missing the joke. "Maybe we should start a petition or something."

Hermione looked genuinely intrigued. "It's an idea. Might be good to do a little research first though. See if we can show that there are appropriate resources available."

"If resources are a problem, we could always get rid of Divination," Harry suggested. "It's an absolute rubbish class, and they're keeping two teachers for it now."

Persephone snorted. "Don't even get me started on Divination. Completely useless, the lot of it. I hated every lesson. I really thought Dumbledore was going to phase it out."

"He had the chance to get rid of Trelawney," Ron said wistfully. "I was no fan of Umbridge, but you gotta admit, she was right about her."

"I'm sure Dumbledore has his reasons for keeping her," said Hermione.

"Yeah, but I don't think they're enough to subject a lot of unwary students to big waste of three years," said Harry who knew what Dumbledore's reasons for keeping Trelawney were, and after three years of classes with her, wished the headmaster had found a another way to keep her occupied.

"If only I could have back all the hours I wasted staring into crystal balls."

"You'd waste them doing something else," Hermione suggested.

"Exactly," Ron said with a dreamy smile. "Harry, did you ever see _anything _in Divination?" Harry shook his head.

"Should have dropped it like I did," Hermione said in an I-told-you-so-but-you-wouldn't-listen voice. "Only class I ever got bad marks in. Just couldn't bring myself to pretend I was seeing stuff that wasn't there."

"OOhhh," Ron said in a that-explains-everything-tone. "You never told us you were getting bad marks. I just thought you quit out of righteous indignation, but now—" He made misty signs in the air. "—it's all clear."

"I got good marks," Persephone said, picking moodily at the wood grain on the table surface. "Still completely useless. Who wants to see the future anyway? Every second can change it, so it's really not useful at all. It's all guesswork and showy tricks."

"Well, there are real prophecies," Hermione said. Harry shot her the quelling look this time, though it was probably unnecessary.

This did not seem to be news to Persephone. "Sure, but you can't teach someone to make real prophecies. They just do or don't. And you can't teach them to manage them, because they just happen. So what's the point in having a class for it? It's like this elaborate shared delusion."

"Yeah, I don't see how anyone keep all that mad stuff straight anyway," Ron said. "All those mad books about crinkles on your hands, bumps on your head, and shapes in your tea."

Persephone nodded her agreement. "Load of nonsense all of it. Even when you go by the book, it never comes out right." She took hold of Harry's hand, which surprised him enough that he didn't protest, and turned it palm up. "For example, look at Harry's 'life line'. According to this, you should have died when you were one years old."

Harry snatched his hand away. "That's not funny," he said tersely.

Persephone blinked at him in surprise. "It wasn't supposed to be. I mean you're obviously not dead."

Harry felt his heart beaten quicken, so that he could hear the blood rushing past his ears. Suddenly all the crazy things, Hermione, Ron, and Luna had been saying about Persephone seemed very possible. The assessing look she was giving him in return seemed very cold. "Why don't you go start the meeting?" he said coolly.

She looked taken aback at being dismissed but swallowed her protest and slipped away. Hermione, Ron, Luna, and Neville were all looking at him curiously.

_You have the shortest lifeline I've ever seen, Potter._

…_you should have died…_

He, Ron, and Hermione spoke in low whispers as the meeting got underway. This time the students ended up making a timeline of Voldemort's rise to power, a subject that had been skirted in all their History of Magic Classes. At the beginning of the time line, someone had drawn a large box with the question "Where does he come from?" written inside.

Some of the students had obviously done some research before hand. When they got to the point sixteen years ago, when Voldemort had attacked the infant Harry and lost his powers, Persephone's jaw fell open and she whirled as if to say something to Harry but quickly snapped herself back around. "That was nice act," Ron murmured in a very low voice. "Trying to pretend she didn't know."

Harry glanced at Malfoy who was keeping silent. They could have set up that little routine just like they had set up the glass incident. Was that why he had come back? To watch Harry's reaction? He was certainly stealing several glances in their direction.

The meeting wound up a good half hour earlier than it had before. The time line was copied onto a few rolls of parchment and people started wandering out of the room in small clusters. Neville and Luna slipped out, but Harry, Ron, and Hermione lingered behind to discuss a few things.

After a few minutes, the room was nearly deserted. Persephone wiped the board very slowly. She rolled up the scrolls of parchments and cast another long glance at Harry as though wanting to say something but thinking better of it. Hermione stood up, saying something about the common room, and Harry and Ron stood up but hung back from the door. It was blocked by Persephone and Malfoy who were having a small, quick argument in hushed tone. Persephone lost and walked back into the room.

"Harry, I need to talk to you," she said.

"Go ahead," he said.

"In private," she said in a firm voice but looking a little nervous.

"You can say whatever it is in front of Ron and Hermione," said Harry.

"No, I can't," she said, biting her lip and looked rather pleadingly into his eyes. "It's personal."

"Oh for Artemis sake," Ron snorted. "He doesn't want to go out with you."

"What?" Persephone said. She looked at Ron then Harry wide-eyed. "Go out with Harry? Oh my—that would be too _weird!_" She started to laugh. "Go out with…of course I don't want to go out with _Harry_." She started to laugh harder. "Is that-is that what you thought?"

Harry shot Ron a nasty look. "No," he said testily, knowing that his face was going red despite his best efforts. Was the idea of going out with him really that absurd? It made it worse that Draco was now laughing too.

"_That's_ what you thought she wanted to talk you about, Potter?" Malfoy blurted, leaning on the doorframe for support. "You really are thick, aren't you?"

"Be nice, Draco," Persephone said still shaking with laughter. "I still have to—" She looked at Harry and laughed even harder. "Oh, I can't do it now." She stumbled back to the door and fell against Draco, clutching at him as though unable to support herself in her hysterics. "I can't…I'll have to…later." Malfoy opened his mouth to say something but squeezed his eye shut unable to get anything out.

"It's NOT THAT FUNNY," Harry shot at them, feeling far beyond annoyed.

"Yes, it is!" Malfoy managed. "If you only knew!"

Persephone hit him on the arm. "Not NOW! Don't you dare tell him _now_!"

"Okay," Malfoy gasped. "Okay." She gave him a push towards the door, and he stumbled into the hall still laughing, still clutching at her hand.

Persephone attempted to master her giggles and only half succeeded. "I'll talk you later, Harry." She hurried out of the room.

"Later, Potter!" Malfoy cried gleefully as he disappeared after her.

For a moment, they stood in a stunned silence in the empty room, listening to the snickers fade down the hall.

"Thanks, Ron," said Harry acidly.

"What did I do?"

"What on earth was that all about?" asked Hermione.

o

* * *

o

Harry was still burning with embarrassment and the strong desire to punch Malfoy the next day. He ignored Persephone's attempt to get his attention by calling his name and waving in big arches in the hall. Feeling spiteful, he set the next meeting date for the same time as the Forum, though Hermione argued him into changing it. "We're still a secret organization in theory, and that many people suddenly missing will draw attention." So he set it for Friday evening instead. He barely heard what Hagrid was telling them about Blurbelluches, because his mind was churning over his neglected D.A.

After the other students filled the Room of Requirement, Harry told them that they were going to start by making their own time line and list of Death Eaters. "But we're already doing that in the forum," Dean Thomas protested.

"Our list will be better," Harry insisted. "The D.A. has information the rest of the student body doesn't. There are some people at the Forum meetings, who may be leaking information back to Voldemort. I've got too much to do this year, to keep up with the Forum and the D.A., so I'll need a few people to volunteer to keep going and let us know if anything significant is said."

Dean volunteered. Ginny didn't. "We've got to put in some extra Quidditch practices before the season starts," she said. Hannah Abbot and Ernie Macmillan volunteered. "We are prefects after all." So did Padma and Parvati Patil, Lavender Brown, and Colin Creevey.

Harry spent the rest of the meeting helping people with their Patronuses, which put a stop to any grumbling.

o

* * *

o

When they met the Weasley twins in Hogsmeade the next day, Fred and George treated them to lunch at Hestia's Table, a nice restaurant that Harry had never been inside. He had hoped that Fred and George would bring news from the Order. "We'd love to tell you something, Harry," Fred said. "But we don't know anything."

"Well, that might be going a bit far," George said looking mock-offended. "But it's pretty close to the truth."

"What about the Malfoy manor?" Harry asked eagerly.

"Might be something," Fred said in a low voice. "I've spent a lot of time peeking through windows at Narcissa Malfoy."

"What do you mean peeking through windows?" Ron said in a disgusted voice.

"Well, can't get inside very easily," Fred said. "We took the invisibility cloak and tried, but they've got some kind of alarm set up apparently. It went off, and Mrs. Malfoy actually called the Ministry of Magic to report a break in. Made a big fuss, insisted on calling in Aurors to search the place for intruders and everything."

He spoke in a high voice damsel in distress voice. "_I'm here all alone, my husband missing, and my son at school, and I'm so scared_. Really put on the waterworks."

"Unfortunately, the Ministry seems to be satisfied that she isn't hiding anything," said George. "Diggory's heart is in the right place, but he's a bit too honest for his own good. Can't recognize a snake in the grass until it rears to bite him."

"I'll take Diggory over Fudge any day," said Harry.

"Me too," George agreed. "At least Dumbledore isn't buying it. He thinks there's still a good chance she's hiding something. So we've been watching the house, seeing who comes and goes. Well, the Order has. Ministry won't go near it until we get something solid."

"No sign of Voldemort then?" Hermione asked.

"Not a whisper," said Fred. "It's kind of weird. I know he's out there. I don't think anyone doubts that…not really, but it's getting hard to keep people motivated. Not a move from the other side in over four months. I think they're all hoping that Harry managed to knock him out for another fourteen year loop."

"I wasn't," Harry said glumly.

"We know," George said. "But unfortunately that's about all we know at the moment."

"He hasn't er…" Fred began uneasily. "You haven't gotten any…er..." He pointed at his head.

"No visions," Harry said. "He finally figured out how to block me about a month or so before the raid on the Riddle Manor."

"Right," Fred said, looking as though he could not decided whether to be relieved or disappointed.

"And I don't think he's tried to get into my head either," Harry added, because George was still looking at him.

"Well, how are you doing, Hermione?" George asked instead.

"Hm?" Hermione said groggily looking up from the soup on which she had been concentrating.

"Excited about your N.E.W.T.s?" he asked with a grin.

"Oh, sure," Hermione said dully, then moaned and laid her hand in her head.

Ron made a slashing gesture across his throat, and the twins nodded. "Gotcha."

Harry and Ron sent her to bed when they got back to the Gryffindor common room, and to their relief, she didn't argue.

o

* * *

o

Harry, Ron, and Hermione were called in to help decorate the Great Hall for the Halloween feast. They had a lot of fun spending an hour or so carving a jack-o-lantern out of one of Hagrid's enormous pumpkins. Draco Malfoy and Pansy Parkinson were directing the hanging of enchanted cobwebs with candy filled spiders, while Peeves floated overhead singing, "I know a secret. I know a secret." and saying very rude things to anyone who asked what it was.

Pansy kept accidentally sending the fake spiders in Ron's direction. Harry made sure to snatch them up and thank her loudly for the candy before they made it to his best friend.

Whatever Malfoy had found so funny at the Forum must have lost it's power to amuse. He was back to looking quiet and pensive. He even told Pansy to quit wasting the spiders.

Harry was filled with a sense of nostalgia for everything at Hogwarts. He was even going to miss Malfoy. He was sure he would get over that pretty soon, but he was definitely going to miss the Great Hall and Gryffindor tower and spending his days with Ron and Hermione. There was something about laughing and having their faces and hands covered with pumpkin innards that made Hermione particularly pretty and Ron the best thing he had ever seen.

They went to prefects' bathroom to wash up. Hermione disappearing to the girls' side, and reemerging much later, freshly scrubbed and smelling of strawberries.

At dinnertime, they followed the bubbling chatter of the crowd back down to the Great Hall. Harry tried to drink it all in. He wanted to savor every moment of the Halloween feast, his last Halloween feast as a student.

Hermione paused at the door. "Where are they going?"

Harry followed her gaze to see Persephone and Draco Malfoy glancing over their shoulders and hurrying down the stairs to the dungeon. Harry shrugged. "Entrance to the Slytherin common room is in the dungeons."

"Yeah, but everyone else is going to the feast," Ron said.

Harry did not like the looks forming on his friends' faces. It was a mixture of distrust and curiosity that usually led to them spying on someone. Harry had similar suspicions that something was up, but he really wanted to just go to the Halloween feast this year. "Maybe they forgot something."

Hermione gave Harry a look.

"Let's make sure," Ron said. He jogged to the staircase. Hermione followed him. Harry sighed and followed after Hermione.

They followed the two Slytherins into the dungeons. Draco and Persephone did not seem to be too worried about someone following them once they got down the stairs. With everyone at the Halloween Feast in the Great Hall, the dungeons were fairly deserted. Malfoy and P. were talking to each other in low voices, but Harry, Ron, and Hermione were staying too far back to hear what they were saying. They passed the Potions classroom and headed deeper into the dungeons. There were no signs forbidding students from coming down this far, but the dungeons were cold and unwelcoming.

"…said it was over here…" Persephone's voice floated down the hall.

Ron and Hermione peered around the corner. "They're probably sneaking off to make-out," Harry muttered. He could not imagine anyone wanting to kiss Malfoy, but he made no claim of understanding how girls think. Hermione elbowed him to be quiet.

"There's something moving…" That was P.

"Back off." That was Malfoy.

Hermione took a step out from behind the corner where they had been hiding. She was squinting as though trying to see something. Ron took a step out as well, looking for whatever Hermione was looking for. Curiosity got the best of Harry, and he looked out from behind the corner.

In the dim light of hall he could make out Malfoy's white-blonde hair and Persephone's silver. Harry had to squint to make them out properly. They were backing away from a side hall that was completely cloaked in shadow. Draco had a hand stretched out protectively towards Persephone, and she was backing up more quickly.

"_Lumos_," Persephone said clearly. The end of her wand lit up, and Harry had to blink to adjust to the new light level. For a moment it was quiet, then the shadow of the darkened hall seemed to take on a life of its own. There was a sound like fabric slithering over stone, and the shadow oozed towards their feet. Persephone and Draco took a few more cautious retreating steps. Then the thing in the darkness stepped into the light from Persephone's wand.

Persephone let out a short high-pitched scream, so did Ron, only at a lower pitch. Persephone whirled about to see who was behind her, frowned, but quickly turned back to thing before her. It was a figure, slightly larger than human, lost in a sea of black robes. But floating a top the sea under the black hood was a snake like visage. It was a face Harry knew all to well. It was the face of Lord Voldemort.

The joys waiting upstairs at the Halloween Feast faded from Harry's mind. This was not what he had been expecting to find, but if Voldemort want to fight here then fine. Harry would fight here. Harry would destroy the monster that killed his parents. Ron and Hermione had their wands pointed at the dark figure but seemed uncertain what course to take. Harry took a few steps forward. His wand was held at ready. He wished Draco would get out of the way and give him a clear shot.

But Draco appeared to be rooted in place, and Voldemort was approaching Draco with a very nasty expression between a smile and pure loathing. "L-lord Voldemort, I-I," Draco stuttered.

"Get out of the way, Malfoy!" Harry shouted. But Draco did not move, and to Harry's surprised neither did Voldemort. Harry had expected Voldemort to at least look in his direction, but the Dark Lord's eyes stayed fixed on Draco. Voldemort reached into his robes and pulled out his wand. He pointed the wand at Draco.

"Stop!" Harry yelled. Voldemort continued as if he could not hear Harry. Wand at ready, he slinked closer to the frozen Draco. Harry frowned. There was something extremely annoying about being ignored by your mortal enemy. Hermione seemed to sense there was something off as well. Out of the corner of his eye, Harry saw her wand waver and her look to Harry for guidance. Persephone looked at Harry as well, then she looked back at Voldemort. She repeated this slowly.

"I'm going to kill you this time, Voldemort!" Harry yelled, taking a few more steps forward. Ron made a squeaking noise. He had never seen Voldemort in person, and Harry's naming him confirmed what the nasty dark thing was.

"OLI-OLI-OXEN-FREE!" Persephone shouted. They all looked at her as if she had gone mad, except Voldemort who was still fixated on Draco and Draco who was still frozen.

"It's a –" Hermione began.

"It's a boggart!" Persephone announced. She gave a short relieved laugh, and Voldemort flinched. Harry dropped his wand back down to his side. He felt relief and a little disappointment, but mostly relief. "It's just a boggart. Use the _Riddikulus_ charm."

"Right," Draco murmured. He pulled out his wand and pointed it at Voldemort. "_Riddikulus!_" Voldemort's black robes became white and covered in a large floral pattern. Everyone laughed a short mirthless laugh of relief. The fact that the charm had worked proved this was a boggart and not the dark lord. Draco made a breathy sound, which Harry guessed was an attempt at a laugh. Then his wand arm stiffened, and he began to shake slightly. The flowers on the boggart's robes were beginning to bleed. The blood soaked through the fabric, slowly obscuring the flower pattern until the entire robe was covered in red. Ron made a small moaning sound. Hermione's face was squinched up in disgust. Harry was watching Draco who was shaking even more. Persephone pushed Draco against the wall, putting herself between him and the boggart.

The boggart's robes began to twist and shrink. Persephone held her wand out, ready for whatever the boggart might become for her. What the boggart became was short girl in Slytherin robes with wild silver hair. It became another Persephone. The original twitched. Harry could not see her face, but he could tell this was not what she had been expecting.

"What a curious fear," the doppelganger said, looking at her own body, then she or it looked up with a look of shock.

"Boggarts don't usually speak," Hermione said from Harry's side.

"I know," the boggart said. "How strange." The doppelganger took a step toward the original Persephone. "You must be very afraid of saying something to give me the ability to speak." Persephone brought her wand up then dropped it a bit. The doppelganger closed the distance some more leaving only a few inches between their faces. "What sort of secrets are you keeping?"

Persephone lifted her wand again but dropped her arm in frustration. "I can't think of anything!" She turned away from the boggart. "Does anyone have a less disturbing fear?" she asked in strained tone. No one said anything at first. Harry could conjure a Patronus, but that would only knock the boggart back not finish it. The boggart was looking at Persephone as though she were a tasty snack.

"I'm still afraid of spiders," Ron volunteered. Harry and Hermione each grabbed one of Ron's arms and pushed him toward the boggart. The Persephone doppelganger looked slightly disappointed then morphed into a giant spider.

"Ugh," Ron said and pulled his wand out. "_Riddikulus!_" The spider's legs turned into eight small pink and yellow butterfly wings, and it plopped on the ground. Harry, who had been expecting roller skates, laughed. He glanced at Draco who was, with Persephone's prompting, gradually controlling his shakes. The butterfly-spider was quickly losing its ability to amuse. None of them were in a laughing mood, and they needed laughter to finish the boggart.

"I think we should run," Hermione said flatly.

That sounded like a very good idea from the brightest witch of their age. The five students took to their heels, though Persephone had to shove Draco to get him started. They ran back through the dungeon, ten feet pounding against the stone. They did not look back. They did not stop running until they were back on the first floor near the entrance to the Great Hall. Safely on the first floor, the boggart seemed far less scary and the adventure extremely appropriate for Halloween. Harry, Hermione, and Ron fell into a fit of relieved laughter.

"You should have seen your face," Hermione laughed pointing at Ron.

"It wasn't anything like Malfoy's," Ron said, turning to Draco. Draco and Persephone were not laughing. Draco looked like he might start shaking again. "What the hell's wrong with you, freezing up like that? What sort of sick mind makes flowers bleed?"

"Shut up!" Persephone snapped. "You have no idea!" She pushed Draco into the Great Hall.

"Man, that was weird," Ron continued, not the least bit perturbed by Persephone's rebuke.

"What sort of person is afraid of themselves?" Hermione said, frowning very hard at the door Draco and Persephone had left through.

"Not herself," Harry said. The laughter was out of his system. "Something she might say. She knows something that she doesn't want getting out."

"But what?" Hermione's brow was knitted tightly.

"I'm still enjoying the look on Malfoy's face," Ron said, beaming. Harry was not getting the same pleasure out it. Why was Draco Malfoy so terrified of Lord Voldemort? His father was a top Death Eater. Draco was a pureblood. What did he have to fear? Draco had always spoken about Voldemort as if he were some great hero. At least, he had until this year at the meeting. What had changed?

Somehow Harry doubted Draco would tell him if he asked. "Let's go enjoy what's left of the feast," he suggested.

o

* * *

**1. **Modified slightly from Albus Dumbledore in the Sorcerer's Stone Ch. 17 and spoken exactly by Hermione in film version of Chamber of Secrets.

**N.B. **Obviously Persephone's description of the Holocaust is simplistic for the sake of brevity. And it's a young wizards view of a Muggle war.


	11. The First Game of the Last Season

**Disclaimer:** This story is based on the Harry Potter novels written by J.K. Rowling. All characters created by J.K. Rowling are owned by J.K. Rowling. The few characters created by me (i.e. Persephone, Hotchet, Kagome…) belong to me, but are available for use in other fics as long as I get credited as their creator. None of us are making any money off this and no infringement is intended.

* * *

o

**Level 2.7: The First Game of the Last Season**

The common room was nearly empty when Draco passed through. Nott was speaking in a fast hushed whisper to Laurel, undoubtedly retelling the events of the Forum. Zabini was reading calmly by the fireplace as though nothing unusual had happened. Draco found the dorm room darkened when he entered. Crabbe and Goyle were already in bed. He could judge by their breathing that they were still awake, but neither of them spoke to him. Draco changed quickly, climbed into bed, and likewise pretended to sleep. When he did sleep, it was dreamless, and he awoke to an empty dorm feeling unrested.

With a mounting sense of dread, he dressed and went up to the Great Hall for breakfast. The Seventh Year Slytherins were clustered tightly around the table, minus Nott. Zabini was sitting in Persephone's normal spot, comparing star charts with Indigo. They were much quieter than usual, and Draco approached them apprehensively. "Morning," he coughed.

"Morning, Draco," they said in a staggered chorus. The girls were smiling at him, so he sat down and took a piece of toast.

"So what's the first game of season?" Daphne asked in a kind of forced cheeriness.

"Gryffindor vs. Hufflepuff," Draco answered.

"Who do you have your bets on?" Pansy asked.

"I dunno," Crabbe said. "Both are pretty solid. I just hope they keep the game close."

"Ravenclaw's got a new Seeker," Goyle added.

Draco felt a bubble of relief and reached for the jam. If Daphne was bringing up Quidditch, that meant they were planning to simply act like the Forum never happened. This tactic suited him just fine. He did not want to relive the meeting and could see no way to discuss it that would not inspire an argument of some kind. He had only started discussing Quidditch in earnest, when Persephone approached the table. He glanced guiltily at Zabini, who was too intent with Indigo to notice.

"Good morning, Persephone," Pansy said coolly.

Persephone gave them all a broad smile. "Good morning," she returned cheerfully, before passing them by to sit with the sixth year girls who were eagerly summoning her.

Everyone was quiet while Pansy watched her walk past, then she turned resolutely back to the topic of Quidditch. "So how is Chesann working out?"

Persephone made no attempts to take her place back that day or the next. She gave Draco all the space he could have asked for. As far as he could tell the separation did not faze her, she had plenty of friends to fill the new gaps in her time. Her groups seemed to grow more at ease, while his friends were slightly irritable and overly careful with their wording.

The only improvement that Draco could see was that Snape had stopped being quite so cold and hostile to him. He gave Slytherin ten points for Draco knowing the components of Wolfsbane and summoned him to his desk after class with a small wave of his hand. "Mr. Malfoy, I wanted to ask you something about Persephone."

Draco fought the urge to sigh. "Yes, sir."

"Has she said anything strange to you?"

"Everything she says is strange," Draco said dryly.

Snape's mouth actually twitched into a half smile. "Anything in particular that sticks out as unusual? Any strange dreams? Nightmares?"

Draco blinked. "No, nothing comes to mind," he said, though he had a vague feeling that this was not entirely true. "Why do you ask?"

"It's not important," Snape said dismissively. "How are the new Chasers working out?"

Draco had a feeling that he would run out of adjectives to describe Chesann's remarkable scoring arm before the week was out.

o

* * *

o

It was somewhat of a relief to drop beside his telescope in Astronomy and know he would not be expected to make forced conversation for a while. If patterns held true, Hermione certainly was not going to speak to him. Sinistra explained something about ancient Egyptian constellations and left them to locate them in the heavens. Draco was making his first note on his chart when he heard a voice barely above a whisper.

"Are you in trouble?" Hermione asked him.

He glanced at her, surprised to see her looking at him, and then back at his telescope. He had been hoping she would talk to him every time he had climbed the stairs to the astronomy tower for the past month, and now that she did he felt suddenly dumb and uncomfortable. He wondered if she was really concerned. It was hard to read her in the dim light. He wondered how much he should tell her, and what had inspired her question in the first place. He realized she was still waiting for a verbal response. "Yeah," he breathed.

"Does it have something to do with Persephone?"

He nodded and thought he caught something close to satisfaction flickered across her face.

"Do you need help?"

"Would you help me?" he asked softly, feeling a small thrill. He had always known Hermione could set things right. It had been his first instinct to go to her. He should have followed it.

"What do you want me to do?"

_Talk to me, kiss me, jump me, lean in and make all the bad things go away._ "Could you get Harry to talk to Persephone?" he said instead.

She only moved a little, but he felt like she had retreated several feet. "What?"

"Convince Harry to talk to Persephone somewhere alone. That would help me more than anything right now." _Because then you'll both know I'm not a bad guy. Because maybe Harry can talk some sense into her. Being family would have to give him some influence._

"Why is it so important that she talk to him alone?" Hermione asked in a sharp whisper.

"You wouldn't believe me, if I told you," Draco murmured looking at the stars. He wondered later if this had been the wrong thing to say. It caused her face to take on a shrewd look. She did not try to talk to him anymore, and he returned to his constellations.

o

* * *

o

It had not been his intention to continue participating in any of Persephone's clubs, and Draco was therefore slightly surprised when he heard Goyle making plans for the Friday Evening Study group. "Gotta go for Toady," Goyle explained in a grunt.

Draco was pretty sure Charles Bulstrode would have managed to recover if deprived of Goyle's guidance, but he had a feeling Goyle's motivation was more out of devotion to Millicent. Draco found he did not have the heart to take out his irritation with Persephone on the first and second years when Thomas Dey turned his large eyes to him in the common room and asked if he was coming.

It was an even greater shock to discover Pansy there.

"I'm not letting the Ravenclaws show us up," she said simply. Padma Patil and Anthony Goldstein, the seventh year Ravenclaw prefects, had volunteered, as had Hufflepuff prefects Hannah Abbott and Ernie Macmillan. Draco search the third floor study hall for Hermione, but the Gryffindor prefects were noticeably absent. He caught Persephone's eye. She gave him a quick smile and glanced down. Laurel and Indigo were clearly enjoying themselves. They had taken over assigning tutors to study groups and making the announcements about the prize incentives. Draco got them to give him Bardolf's group. The boy had stubbornly refused to invite anyone, but a couple of his assigned team members had shown up of their own accord.

At the end of the meeting, Persephone had wandered up to him and said she was glad he had come even if was mad at her.

"I'm not. I just…" He took the opportunity to tell her he thought letting Creevey take photos of the sixth year girls was a bad idea. She nodded to show she had heard, but he had no reassurance that he had managed to dissuade her.

o

* * *

o

The weather had turned unseasonably hot by Monday, and even the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom was lazily warm. Several of the students had loosened or discarded their outer robes. Hermione had her legs crossed under the desk. Her skirt had fallen back a few inches more than she normally allowed it, and Draco was enjoying the view. The heat had shut down his brain so that the parts remaining functional were absorbed in contemplation over the texture and curves of her skin.

He was jostled out of his stupor by Nott and found that the other students were standing. Hermione's robes fell back into place as she stood, and his brain began to resume normal functions. Dumbledore flicked his wand, and the desks parted to line up neatly against the sides of the classroom. Draco slowly caught on that they were partnering up for something and figured it had something to do with hurling hexes at each other because Nott partnered up with Daphne, both grinning wickedly at each other. Blaise was already making a short bow to Indigo. Draco discovered that Hermione was making the same twisting search for a partner that he was. It was really too good of an opportunity to pass up.

"Hey, Granger, I'm open," he said, trying to look cool and inviting.

She looked startled to hear her name and stared at him assessingly. He had the wonderful feeling that she was going to accept, when Weasley pulled her away, and Potter stepped forward. _Stupid Weasley,_ he though viciously. _Stupid Potter_. _Hey, I'm taller than he is. When did that happen? It's so unfair, he's still got the build for a proper seeker... oh well, at least I'm not freakishly tall like that red headed boy over there... I have really got to wakeup._ _Looks like we're dueling. Might not be the best idea for a first date anyway... _He shrugged away his disappointment and gave Potter a short bow.

Potter gave him the shortest nod of the head in return and looked off to the side. Draco caught sight of Longbottom and Bones who had started practicing in the corner. His brain was catching up. _That's right, we're doing shield charms_.

"Do you want to go first or should I?" he asked trying to get Potter's attention.

"First with the shielding or the hexing?"

Draco wondered if he was being this thick on purpose or if it was a family trait? "The shielding, Potter. That _is_ what we're supposed to be learning, isn't it?"

"Right, well, I guess I'll go first then. I know you're itching to hurl a hex at me."

Draco hesitated. He had almost forgotten that he had tried to kill his classmate last year, but clearly Harry had not. "Look, Potter, I—" But what could he say? He could not apologize without admitting that he had been trying to knock Harry out that window in the first place. "Never mind. Defend yourself."

He felt very stupid trying to hurl hexes at Harry Potter when he wanted to convince him that he was no longer a threat. So he lobbed easy ones at him, things that could not possibly be construed as truly aggressive.

"Come on, Malfoy, you're not even trying."

"Let's switch up," Draco said. Harry shrugged and immediately hurled a Jelly-Legs Jinx at him.

"_Protego!_" Draco shouted, blocking the bulk of it just in time.

"So, how did you like the forum?" Harry asked.

"It was swell," Draco said, willing his muscles to shake off the little bit that had gotten through.

"Swell?" Potter said as though he had never heard the word before.

"Yeah, you know in a hellish sort of way." It was way too hot to try to pretend he had actually enjoyed the meeting, and it bugged him to realize that Potter was giving him time to recover. "Look, are you gonna hex me or not?"

"_Blaterare!_"

"_Protego!_"

"_Vaespertilio Nasus!_"

"_Protego!_"

Potter was grinning at him, and Draco could not help giving him a small grin in return. He had wondered from time to time what it would have been like if Potter had taken his out stretched hand on their first train ride to Hogwarts. The rejection had wounded him at the time more than he would care to admit. He had not been use to rejection. He still was not fond of it.

Draco looked passed Harry's shoulder and caught Hermione looking back at him. There was something calculating in her gaze that killed his grin.

"Let's switch again," Potter said.

Draco nodded and decided that there was really not much point being delicate with Harry Potter. The boy had taken on Lord Voldemort. He probably found it insulting that Draco was trying to be careful with him. Besides Draco did not want to throw wussy hexes with Hermione watching. Potter did seem glad he was putting more effort into it.

"Let's alternate," Potter said, and they did. It was kind of fun in its way, like more civilized dueling. Oddly clarifying to focus on your actions rather than attempting to distract your opponent verbally. They had a nice rhythm going when suddenly Potter stepped off it, and Draco's curse flipped him head over heals. The bell rung while Potter was in midair, and he hit the ground with a heavy thud. Draco had not expected the curse to actually hit him. Potter had been blocking really well. He saw Granger's hand fly to her mouth. _He's fine. I'm sure he's fine_.

Potter got to his elbows with a grunt. Draco watched him anxiously for a second, but he seemed to be okay. Draco wanted to reach out a hand to help him up, but he heard Daphne's laugh and knew she was watching. It was too overt a sign of peace for a Death Eater's son, particularly one trying to lie low, to make. He gathered up his bag and retreated from the room, worried what everyone was thinking of him now.

o

* * *

o

Nothing would have pleased Draco better than to completely forget about the Forum and focus on his schoolwork. Unfortunately none of the other students were willing to forget it. Justin Finch-Fletchley and Wayne Hopkins kept coughing "Nazi" behind his back in Transfiguration. A little Hermione like voice droned in his head "ignore them, just ignore them", but he was having great difficulty doing so. He was unable to focus long enough to conjure more than half a thimble, and Goyle was progressing to teacups.

At length Crabbe turned on them. "If you two don't shut up…" He went on to describe something equally unpleasant and creative.

Hopkins and Finch-Fletchley just smirked, knowing they had gotten to him. "Forgot about the Stormtrooper," Hopkins muttered when he had turned his back on them.

Crabbe made to whirl around again, but Draco caught his arm and shook his head. "Is there a problem?" Professor McGonagall asked tersely.

"No, Professor," Draco said evenly.

"Oh," McGonagall started in surprise. "Very nice, Goyle."

o

* * *

o

Draco retreated to the Slytherin common room that evening while Persephone and her sixth year friends headed back to the Arithmancy lab. Crabbe and Goyle had disappeared after dinner, and Draco had not bothered to find them. Goyle was not a loud gloater, but Draco was quite sick of the smug look on his face.

He nestled into a lonely little table and spread out his translation notes for Ancient Ruins. The common room was very quiet this evening. He had made his first mark when the portal opened, and Pansy strode inside clutching a short stack of books. She caught his attention because she was alone.

"Hey, Pansy," he called to her.

She looked genuinely surprised to see him. "I thought you would be at the Forum," she said, striding up to him. He raised his eyebrow questioningly. She tossed her brown bob. "Everyone else is."

"But you're not," Draco pointed out.

"There's only so much I can stomach," Pansy said. "Daphne says she just wants to know what they're saying, and you know Indigo does whatever…oh, nevermind." She looked down and Draco saw a crack in the cool exterior she always tried to present these days. She looked abandoned and slightly nervous. "Can I join you?"

"Of course," he said, tapping his wand so one of the chairs slid back for her. She smiled at him and sat down. "What are you working on?"

"Um, Potions," she said. "That essay where we have to explain why Wolfsbane works. I do wish Professor Snape had just explained it."

"But then it wouldn't be Advanced Potions, love."

"I suppose," she said and took the first book off her stack. They worked quietly for a while, occasionally making comments about their assignments. It was nice. He liked her when she was like this, just being Pansy and not trying to impress anyone. It had been a long time since it had been just the two of them, no Crabbe or Goyle or gaggle of girls. Why couldn't he just fall in love with Pansy? It would make things so much simpler. She was very pretty, and there was no question of common ground between them. He had known her for ages, and she would gladly accept his attentions. Or so he assumed. He wondered if she would look at him so fondly if she knew his parents had disowned him, as he was sure they had or would very soon. Would she want him without his fortune, knowing he would never inherit the grand manor of which she was so fond? Would she join him if she knew it meant defying Voldemort and her own parents?

"Pansy?"

She turned to look at him.

"How are you doing, Pansy?"

"I'm fine. Might need your help a little bit on the moonstone."

"I wasn't talking about the assignment."

"Oh…well, I'm still fine. Can you believe we'll be leaving school soon? It seems strange to think about it."

That's right, she was annoyingly evasive. "I meant. Have you had any contact from your father?"

Pansy shifted and made a quick sweeping glance of the nearby area. "Mother has," she said casually. "It's been a few months since I've seen him."

"Do you miss him?"

Pansy gave a short shrug. "I think Rose misses Daddy more than I do, but then she's so young. I've had my time with him. Besides," she said straightening her back. "It's not like he's run away. He's doing something import, isn't he?"

"Yeah," Draco said his mouth dry. "Important."

o

* * *

o

He wanted to talk to Hermione more than anything now and climbed the Astronomy Tower hoping that she was feeling particularly blunt and chatty. Alice had come back from the meeting, laughing nearly fit to burst of Hermione's plea for house-elf rights. "Badges! _Spew_ badges, oh I'm going to laugh my head off at Hannah Abbott if she wears that one she bought. Could imagine her fixing it right under her prefect badge? Prefect spew!"

Draco did not care if she did want to rant about House Elf rights. He just wanted some reassurance that intelligent women still existed. Hermione was standing with her back to the stone wall when he came in. He crossed to her, tossed his bag down, and started to say something when Alice's voice rang out across the room. "Granger? Granger? How much was it for a spew badge again?"

"Two Sickles," Hermione said icily. Alice, Indigo, Lisa, and Su all burst into a fit of laughter. Hermione rolled her eyes and took her seat, turning her back on them. Draco sat down beside her and decided it might not be the wisest move to debate house-elf rights with her at the moment.

"Did you convince Potter to talk to Persephone?" he asked quietly.

"No," she said huffily. "And I'm not going to."

Draco felt wounded. "Why not?"

"I'm not telling Harry to do anything, until I know what's going on," she said resolutely.

"I just want him to talk to her."

"Tell me who she is, where she comes from, and what she wants, and we'll see."

"Would you believe me if I did?"

"Probably not," Hermione said coolly. "I don't trust you, and I won't until you give me some reason."

"Like what?"

"Tell me why you missed the train."

"I-" he started to tell the same story that he had told the others, about walking up from Hogsmeade, but if she was wanting to trust him, lying was probably a bad idea. He did want her to trust him. "I can't tell you, not yet, but I promise I'll explain everything after Harry talks to Persephone."

Hermione looked unimpressed. "Either give me some answers, Malfoy, or stop talking to me."

Draco sat there with his mouth hanging half open for a full minute, trying to search his brain for some tidbit he could give her that she would not be able to link immediately back to his parents. "Look, Granger, it's not that I…" But she was resolutely ignoring him. He felt a flush of anger, but the reasonable parts of his brain knew Hermione was in the right. She had no reason to trust him, and it was wise of her to demand some proof. He had intended for Persephone's rescue to be that proof, but that required Persephone to tell Harry what had happened. From Hermione's reaction, he could not expect anyone to believe the story if it came from him.

o

* * *

o

Draco received two surprises at breakfast. The first was Indigo's hair, which had turned rebelliously blonde. The second was Oberon sweeping down on him when the post arrived. He took the letter with Pansy and Blaise looking on curiously. Daphne was preoccupied with her own package.

_Dear Draco,_

_I would like you to meet me at Hestia's Table on your next Hogsmeade weekend. I wish to discuss some things with you. I am concerned by your choice in company as of late. Think of me when you look at the stars and know I will be with you soon._

_Your loving mother,_

_N.M._

Draco felt himself go cold. She knew he had been talking to Hermione. There were no portraits in the Astronomy Tower, someone had to be spying on him. He folded the letter and looked down at his plate to avoid looking at the others. It was one of them.

After breakfast he found Persephone and dragged her casually as he could manage to one of the broom closets.

"Look at this," he whispered after he had closed the door and shoved the letter into her hand. "She knows I've been talking to Granger."

"Maybe," Persephone said.

"No maybe. She knows," Draco snapped back in a hiss, feeling highly agitated. "And she wants me to meet her at Hestia's. Alone is the implication. What do I do if she's not alone? Or if she slips Veritaserum in my drink?"

"You're actually going to meet her?"

"I-well, if I don't then she'll know something is up," Draco explained uneasily. He looked at Persephone's worried face. "No, scratch that. She already knows something's up. She knows about you. Question is whether she's told anyone. No, she wouldn't do that…not if she could avoid it. But let's face it. Voldemort isn't stupid. He knows I could be a danger to him, and in the end, she'll do what he tells her." He ran his fingers through his hair, hoping the contact with his scalp could stimulate his brain. They stood in silence for a long minute while he tried to think.

"So, you're talking to me again?" Persephone asked gingerly.

"Have you told Harry yet?"

"No, I told you I'm trying to let him get to know me. I think it's working. He's coming to the Forum, and he's started participating. He said some really wonderful things about Goblins…"

Draco grabbed hold of her shoulders. "I need you tell Harry."

The smile she had been growing faded again. "I will. Soon."

"How soon?"

"I don't know."

"The next forum. I'll give you until the next forum to tell him or I will."

Her silver brows knitted. "Why is this so important to you?"

He took his hands off her shoulders and stuck them back in his pockets. "Because I'm tired of the way they look at me. Like I'm the enemy. I need to be on someone's good side." His fingers closed around the little paper envelope tucked inside. "I need to have allies who I know won't give me up to Voldemort. I need someone to know." He looked directly into her silver eyes, knowing what he was going to say was a little manipulative but not really caring. "I need to know you'll be taken care of if I have to run."

"Severus will…" she began, but Draco gave her a hard stare. "Okay, I'll tell Harry, but you have to back me up. Next Forum, I swear."

o

* * *

o

He continued to avoid publicly speaking to her. She continued chatting with everyone from Longbottom to Quirke as openly as she pleased. He felt incredibly nervous and jumpy. He was afraid to speak in front of his friends, not knowing what slip would be instantly reported, and he was equally afraid to avoid them, sure that this would find his mother's ears just as quickly. He tried to act comfortable and at ease at meal times but retreated as quickly as he could into his bed curtains at night.

In Defense Against the Dark Arts, Dumbledore took them outside so that they could attempt Patronuses, which was supposed to be the most effective defense against dementors. Draco wanted very much to master the spell, but every time he tried, he pictured himself facing a real dementor. Dementors caused you to relive your worst fears. This had not seemed like such a big deal a few years ago. Scary, yes, but bearable. He wonder what would happen if he ran into a dementor now. Would he have to relive Evra Tome's murder over and over in his mind? How was he supposed to hold onto a happy memory with that running through his head?

He had spent much of his third year laughing at Potter for fainting at a dementor's presence. Now he wondered if he might do the same. He caught sight of Potter and his impressive looking stag. Potter was eyeing Draco's feeble attempts and gave a soundless laugh. _Stupid irony_.

To make matters worse, everyone else in the class seemed to be grasping the concept much faster than he did as well. Several of his classmates were producing fully corporeal Patronuses on the first try. None of his housemates mastered the spell that quickly, but all of them were doing better than he was. Daphne had an impressively large silver shield that made his silver sparks look particularly pitiful, and he could read the verbal jabs she was holding back in her eyes. None of these things were helping him hold onto a happy thought.

His nerves got worse as the Forum approached. Feelings of inadequacy of every shape and size were chasing through his mind. Madam Pomfrey had called him a hero, but Potter would know better. Granger would want to know the answer to a thousand questions that he still would not be able to give her. Weasley would love a chance to get back at him and would certainly be looking for a way to foul it all up. Still, he was resolute to see it through.

He joined the group of students who made their way up to the Arithmancy lab after dinner. "You're coming?" Persephone said, looking a little surprised.

"Gotta make sure you don't back out," he murmured under his breath. She looked nearly as nervous as he felt.

Draco took a seat with the other Slytherins and listened to Laurel and Nott debate which flavors of Bertie Botts were the best. Daphne was making a study date with Indigo to practice their Patronuses. "Interested Draco?" He made a grunt in response. He was looking for Potter. He had just been seized by the horrible thought that Harry might skip the meeting, and he would have another whole night of anxious waiting. But Potter came. Longbottom and Loony Lovegood had joined his usual entourage. _Wonderful, _Draco thought. _Two more people who hate me_.

Persephone had been flitting about, standing with a few different people but not really talking to anyone. She drifted over to Harry, attempting to look casual. Slowly she engaged in conversation with him and his friends, and the tightness in Draco's chest eased. She took Potter's hand, and he snatched it back. _Now what?_ Persephone left the table wringing her hands. Draco caught her attention and mouthed, _did you tell him? _Persephone shook her head.

He sighed, partly from relief and mostly from dread. Persephone collected herself and slowly the meeting got underway. It was more interactive than before, but Draco did not try to participate. He watched the wunderkind have their own hushed conversation. He wished they would try to look a little friendlier. The meeting ended and people began to file out. Draco made his way to the door, determined to physically keep the two Potters from leaving the room if need be. Luckily, Harry was deeply involved in whatever conversation he was having with Granger and Weasley. Loony and Longbottom slipped out. He told Nott that he wanted to wait for Persephone and would be down at the common room before too long. Padma Patil shot him a surly glare as she passed. Blaise gave him a crafty grin. Finch-Fletchley looked surprised to see him there.

At length, the room cleared except for Persephone and the wunderkinds. Persephone made to approach them but lost her nerve and headed towards Draco instead. He stepped into the doorway, effectively blocking it. "Now," he said in a hard whisper.

Persephone's face tightened with nerves. "I think he's mad at me," she whispered back.

"I don't care if he's trying to jinx you, tell him now."

"Can't it wait 'til morning?" she whimpered.

"You tell him now or I will," Draco hissed.

"Oh, alright," she breathed. She visibly steeled herself and turned back. The wunderkinds had stood and were looking at them apprehensively. Draco watched them past Persephone's silver puff. Maybe Potter did think they were trying to hurt him.

"Harry, I need to talk to you."

"Go ahead," Potter said. _Oh, come on, Potter, try to look a little friendlier. She's nervous_.

"In private."

Hermione was looking past Persephone at Draco. _Come on, Granger_, he pleaded silently. _Help me out_.

"You can say whatever it is in front of Ron and Hermione."

"No, I can't. It's personal."

"Oh for Artemis sake," Weasley snorted. "He doesn't want to go out with you."

"What?" Persephone said. Draco had to admit it took a few seconds for him to register what Weasley had said too. "Go out with Harry? Oh my—that would be too _weird!_" She started to laugh. "Go out with…of course I don't want to go out with _Harry_. Is that-is that what you thought?"

Potter shot Weasley a nasty look. "No," he said very unconvincingly. He was actually turning red. Draco found himself giggling. He was actually turning red. His giggle turned into a real laugh. Potter though they were cornering him about a _date?_ He thought Persephone was a love struck fan girl?

The laughter was shaking him to the point he could hardly speak. "_That's_ what you thought she wanted to talk you about, Potter?" he blurted, leaning on the doorframe for support. "You really are thick, aren't you?"

"Be nice, Draco," Persephone said. She was shaking with laughter too. "I still have to—" She looked at Harry and laughed even harder. "Oh, I can't do it now." She stumbled back to the door and fell against Draco, tears rolling down her cheeks. "I can't…I'll have to…later."

Draco tried to dissuade her, to tell her they had to do it now, but the laughter was choking him. He had been so worried, and Potter thought she wanted a date.

"It's NOT THAT FUNNY!" Potter yelled at them.

But suddenly everything seemed very funny to Draco. Potter's yelling. Granger's stunned face. The blank look on the tall gangly fellow. Some calm rational part of his brain told him that his behavior was completely inappropriate to the seriousness of the moment, but Draco found that funny too. "Yes, it is!" he managed. "If you only knew!"

Persephone hit him on the arm. "Not NOW! Don't you dare tell him _now_!" Her own face had grown rather red, and he could tell she was nearly as embarrassed as her nephew.

He had to admit if the situation was reversed this would not be the way he would want to make his announcement. "Okay," Draco gasped. "Okay." One more night really would not be that bad. Besides he doubted at this point he could manage to look serious for more than a few seconds, and she was having just as much trouble breathing as he was. Persephone gave him a light push in the direction of the hall, and he stumbled back, clutching at her hand so she would retreat with him.

"I'll talk you later, Harry," she called and tripped out into the hall.

He found himself shouting. "Later, Potter!" His brain extremely amused by the double entendre. Persephone jogged down the hall, and he ran to catch up with her. They both collapsed at the end of it with a fresh bubble of mirth, recovered themselves, and made it half way down the stairs before collapsing against the banister.

"Oh mon! His face!" Persephone cried. Draco nodded, too choked to reply. "Oh mon!" She made some gasping breaths. "There was this one time. First time I went into Hogsmeade. James took me to the Three Broomsticks, and we went to get our drinks. And Madam Rosmerta said 'oh, James is this your little girlfriend?' And I swear he got the 'xact same look on his face." She giggled hard enough she had to grip the banister. "He turned purple!"

"This is really bad you know," Draco chuckled, resting against the banister himself. "He probably thinks we're both raving."

The idea that they were both insane or thought insane was also insanely funny and left them laughing like lunatics. Draco felt lighter than he had in weeks, and that alone seemed to counterbalance the disaster. He had missed his little sister. They managed to get themselves under control before they reached the dungeons and walked into the common room together before Draco remembered that they were not supposed to be speaking.

It suited him just as well. He slept better knowing that he still had an ally. The whole thing still seemed funny in the morning. Persephone sat with him at breakfast again, and they fell to smirking at their private joke every time they looked at each other. The others took this in stride. Pansy arrived to breakfast late and by that time Persephone already had Indigo giggling over something from the Friday Study group sessions.

Draco's good mood mellowed a bit later when Persephone told him rather unhappily that Harry was now very mad at her indeed and had blatantly ignored her attempts to get his attention. He doubted she was exaggerating because looks Potter gave him in class now were close to murderous, but this hardly seemed the end of the world it had before. He was a bit concerned because the Wolfsbane Potion also called for Agaricus, and his stock had been emptied making the Poison Detection Potion. Normally he would have just sent Oberon off for more or purchased some on his upcoming Hogsmeade weekend, but every Sickle looked precious now. Persephone, whose bottle was also a bit low, promised to ask around for someone willing to share or sell their stock cheap.

The thought of Hogsmeade also filled him with dread, and he was still quite uncertain whether or not to meet his mother. His concentration in Transfiguration was improving at least. He finally managed to produce a decent thimble, and to his guilty satisfaction, his Protean Charm came out much better than Goyle's.

He decided to try to make peace with Granger again in Astronomy. This did not go so well either. "Look, Hermione, I'm really sorry about-."

"Don't call me Hermione," she snapped at him.

"Okay, _Granger_. Look, it wasn't really you and Potter we were laughing at…are you wearing eye shadow?"

She flushed and turned away. He fought very hard not to chuckle, knowing it would not help his case. So Hermione Granger cared about silly girl things after all.

o

* * *

o

On the Friday before the Hogsmeade weekend, he sent his mother a letter excusing himself from the meal, blaming his absence on a large pile of homework, which he very honestly had. In a burst of wicked humor, he sent her the first thimble he had conjured, which was silver, along with the letter. He did not have the gall to ask her for money or Agaricus. This seemed to cross some line of decency in his mind. After he sent it, he returned to the common room to find Persephone in an unusually reserved mood.

"What's wrong?" he asked her.

"Neville Longbottom asked me to meet him at the Three Broomsticks," she said dolefully.

"Longbottom?" Draco laughed. "Well, that would depress me too."

"Oh, no, I like Neville," she said softly. "It's just…"

"Sephi! What's wrong?" Daphne called, descending upon her with Pansy and the other Seventh Year girls in tow.

"Longbottom asked her on Hogsmeade date," Draco explained.

Daphne laughed. "Longbottom?"

Pansy laughed too. "Oh, dear, that is awful. Gotten a bit presumptuous hasn't he?"

"Does he know about Oliver?" Indigo asked. Persephone shook her head.

"Oh are you missing Oliver?" Pansy surmised, looking genuinely sympathetic. "Poor dear, why don't you come with us tomorrow?"

"I can't," Persephone said, and began to drift towards the girls dorm.

"You're not still mad at us, are you?" Alice asked.

"Oh, no, I'm not mad at you at all," Persephone said, resting her hand on the railing of the dorm stairs. "I just can't go."

"What do you mean you 'can't go'?" Pansy asked starting to sound a little annoyed.

"Oh come on, Sephi," Daphne said. "It'll be loads of fun."

"I'll buy you a butterbeer," Indigo promised, but Persephone climbed the first few steps.

"Sephi, don't be a killjoy," Pansy said. "We want you to come."

"I can't. I can't come because I don't have a permission form."

"Don't have a permission form?" Daphne echoed. "You mean your parents didn't sign yours?"

Persephone shook her head. "They couldn't."

"That's so stupid," Pansy said with a snort. "Why couldn't they sign a simple permission form?"

"Well, they're dead aren't they!" Persephone shouted her eyes brimming with tears and ran up the rest of the stairs.

The girls' eyes went wide, and Pansy looked absolutely horrified. "I didn't know," she said as they all looked at her. "I didn't know. Why didn't she tell us?" She turned her wide brown eyes on Draco. "Did you know?" He nodded somberly. "Why didn't you tell us?"

Draco shrugged uncomfortably. "It was Persephone's business."

Daphne, Indigo, and Alice ran up the stairs. Pansy continued to look at Draco. "But all that stuff she said about her Papa is or does. She always says 'is'." Draco had no response for this. It occurred to him that what he had taken for resilience in Persephone was much closer to blatant denial.

o

* * *

o

To the girls' credit they offered to stay in the common room the next day instead of heading into town, but Draco convinced them to head on. Indigo had to buy the candy orders for the first and second years. Persephone did not come back down until well after noon. She did not say anything about Hogsmeade, so he did not bring up the subject. They did homework at one of the tables with the Dey children. Victoria's father had not signed her permission slip either. "He thinks it is frivolous," she explained.

"You know what's really sad about it all," Persephone said later when Victoria and Thomas had left to make a lap around the lake before dinner. "She doesn't even want to be a witch."

Draco scowled. "What do you mean doesn't want to be a witch?" he asked, but Persephone just shook her head.

o

* * *

o

The week before Halloween passed in a daze, and Draco found himself decorating the Great Hall with the other prefects. Potter had finally stopped glaring murderously at him, which was some relief. He was feeling lethargic and bullied the fifth and sixth year prefects into actually hanging the fake cobwebs while he and Pansy directed from the ground. Potter, Granger, and Weasley were carving out a giant pumpkin and being very messy about it. They also looked like they were having a great deal of fun. Hermione's laughter rang through the chamber inspiring mixed feelings of fondness and sharp stabs of jealousy in him. He wanted to make Hermione laugh like that.

One of the fifth year prefects made the mistake of asking Peeves to tell the secret he kept singing about and was told that his face resembled something in Snape's Potion laboratory. "That's not a secret, Peeves," their partner called out good-naturedly. The first prefect put a fake spider down their partner's robes soon after, which might have been mildly amusing if Draco had been in a better mood. Pansy was inspired and sent a spider in Weasley's direction.

Potter snatched it up before it could get to his friend, who was notoriously terrified of them. "Thank you for your generous gift, Ms. Parkinson," Potter said with a theatric bow that sent Hermione laughing again. Pansy undaunted sent another one along.

"Cut it out, Pansy," Draco said. "You're wasting them." He was hoping Hermione might notice his maturity, but she did not seem to be paying him much attention.

Pansy looked a little sulky but did as told. She headed back to the common room to freshen up, while he made sure the four great tables were put back in place (they had been moved aside for the pumpkin carving).

"Hey, Draco!" Persephone called, jogging up to him. "I think I may have found us some Agaricus, and it's free."

"I like free," Draco said.

"Pansy and Daphne heard I was looking and said that there was a growth down in the dungeons."

"Fresh Agaricus?" he said making a face. "Well, I guess it'll help. Drying it shouldn't take too long."

"You want to get it after dinner?"

"No, let's go now," he said quietly. "While everyone else is at the feast. I know it's not really shameful to pick your own, but I don't want to let everyone know I'm short on Galleons before I have to."

"Okay," she said. "Maybe if we're quick we can still get back in time."

Students were beginning to file into the Great Hall for the feast, masses of them talking and laughing. Draco and Persephone slipped past them. When the stairs to the dungeon were clear, Draco checked for any of the other Slytherins that might be watching, and they slipped down.

"Has your mother written you back yet?" Persephone asked in a whisper.

"No, not yet," Draco whisper back out of habit. "I bet she's pretty angry though. But I figured it was better to leave them wondering what I was up to than give them a chance to ask me questions directly."

"The first and second years were really happy with their candy haul," Persephone said. "I thought maybe we should have waited until after Halloween, but I don't think they'll have any Fizzing Whizbees at the feast and that was our most requested item. Anyway the kids seemed really please to get them. I think stuff like that's better when you earn it. Indigo bought a little extra and made sure everyone got a small box of Droobles, so nobody got left out."

"Did Daphne ever come through with the forty Galleons?"

"Yeah, she got them in last week. We're using the leftovers from the candy fund for the winter exam prize so we can save the Galleons for the end of the year exams. We're splitting them eight ways. Five per person to one team of second years and one of first years."

"Well, what if a three people team wins?"

"We're counting people as being on teams whether or not they show up to the study hall. Thought that was fairest in the end."

They made their way much deeper into the dungeons than Draco was used to going. "How far is it?" he asked.

"They said it was over here," Persephone said indicating a dark and foreboding looking passage way.

"How could they see anything in there?"

"Lit their wands?"

"Oh, yeah. Did you bring a jar? Wait a sec…"

"There's something moving," Persphone said, her voice suddenly anxious.

"Back off," Draco told her sharply. She did not argue but backed away and pulled out her wand.

"_Lumos_," Persephone said clearly. The end of her wand lit up. It was much easier to see now, but the increased light made the darkness of the side passage more pronounced. It was quiet at first, and then he heard it. A slithering sound like fabric dragging over stone. It was familiar though he could not place it, and it filled him with dread. The shadow started to crawl towards their feet. Draco took a few more cautious steps back and knew Persephone was doing the same.

Then HE stepped into the light and Draco felt the blood freeze in his veins. _No, no, not here. No, he can't be here_. Persephone screamed, and Draco thought he heard a second scream, though he did not remember screaming. His throat was too tight to let him scream. Lord Voldemort's lipless mouth parted in a smile, but there was murder in his eyes. _He's going to kill me. He's going to kill us._ He would have to beg. He would have to plead. He would have to give him anything he wanted. "L-lord Voldemort, I-I," Draco stuttered. They were both going to die, and it was his fault.

"Get out of the way, Malfoy!"

Potter was here? Harry Potter was here? A small rush of hope sprung in Draco but died almost immediately. Voldemort seemed unconcerned. His smile faded, and he reached in his robes and pulled out his wand. He pointed the wand at Draco's chest. _Please no, please no._

"Stop!" Potter yelled, but Voldemort paid him no attention. Draco could not believe Voldemort hated him so much as to ignore Harry Potter, but then the Dark Lord did not allow betrayal.

"I'm going to kill you this time, Voldemort!" Potter yelled, and there was an odd squeaking noise. Draco was quite sure he had not made it. He was finding it hard to breath.

"OLI-OLI-OXEN-FREE!" Persephone shouted. Draco risked flicking his eyes to her. Either she had gone completely mad or something was not right.

"It's a –" Was Hermione here too?

"It's a boggart!" Persephone announced. She gave a short relieved laugh, and Voldemort flinched. "It's just a boggart. Use the _Riddikulus_ charm."

_A boggart. It's just a boggart._ "Right," Draco murmured. He pulled out his wand and pointed it at Voldemort. Something funny…he needed something funny. He thought of the Victorian sofa that Voldemort had sat on for tea and pictured his robes in the same floral pattern. "_Riddikulus!_"

Voldemort's black robes became white and covered in flowers. _So it was a boggart, just a boggart_. At least, it had not made him see Evra's bloody face again…but even as he thought it blood began to seep out of the flowers as though cuts were opening. There was a moaning sound that came up from Draco's soul without passing through his throat. _Stop, someone please make it stop._

He felt something knock him into the wall and realized it was Persephone. He crumpled against the wall, grateful as she put herself between him and it.

The boggart's robes began to twist and shrink. Persephone held her wand out, ready for whatever the boggart might become for her. What the boggart became was short girl in Slytherin robes with wild silver hair. It became another Persephone. The original twitched.

"What a curious fear," the doppelganger said, looking at her own body, then she or it looked up with a look of shock.

Hermione spoke and the sound of her voice opened a spring of horror within Draco. _They saw. She saw._ _They saw Voldemort. They saw the blood. _He had groveled before the Dark Lord in front of the eyes of the very people whose respect he had most longed for. They had seen his cowardice. They had seen him freeze up.

"I know," the boggart said in voice so like Persephone's. "How strange. You must be very afraid of saying something to give me the ability to speak. What sort of secrets are you keeping?"

"I can't think of anything!" Persephone cried. "Does anyone have a less disturbing fear?"

"I'm still afraid of spiders." _Merlin, no, Weasley was there too?_ He could hope for discretion from the other two, but Weasley would never let him forget this.

"Ugh. _Riddikulus!_"

There was some laughter. It sounded very hollow and distant.

"I think we should run," Hermione said flatly.

Draco wanted nothing more, but his legs would not move. Persephone slammed against him again, knocking him forward, forcing his legs to work. Once they worked, he ran. They were all running. The stairs back to the common room and light coming from their top was sweet as salvation. He found himself in the entrance hall again. His heart was beating again, now it was too fast. He squeezed at his chest willing it to become still. The same sort of laughter he had envied earlier rose from Potter, Granger, and Weasley. Only now it sounded cold and mocking.

"You should have seen your face," Hermione laughed.

"It wasn't anything like Malfoy's," Weasley said, turning to Draco. "What the hell's wrong with you, freezing up like that? What sort of sick mind makes flowers bleed?"

He wanted to not be here. He wanted to be anywhere but here, anyone but himself.

"Shut up!" Persephone snapped. "You have no idea!"

Draco felt her push him towards the Great Hall and submitted to her. He held her arm to steady his shaking. He could not understand why everyone in the Great Hall looked so happy. He could not understand how anyone could be happy. He was vaguely aware that Persephone was speaking, asking how he was, assuring him that it was okay. But he was transfixed by the sea of chattering students. How long would it take for the rumors to spread? How long before they all knew his cowardice? How long before they knew he feared Voldemort above all else and he had the sort of depraved mind that made flowers bleed?

What would they think of him? What would Crabbe and Goyle think? What would Pansy—Pansy. His fear was pushed aside by a sudden rush of anger, and he tore towards the Slytherin table. Persephone tripping along behind him. Pansy and Daphne were laughing. He slammed his hands on the table, jostling its contents. A million profanities screamed through his mind, but he could not find the voice for them. "Draco, are you all right?" Pansy asked.

"You knew what was down there?" he demanded.

"What?"

"You knew there was a boggart down in the dungeons!"

Pansy blinked at him. She looked over at Persephone, slowly putting it together. "There was no Agaricus, was there?" Draco continued. "That was sick, Pansy! That was really sick!"

Pansy and Daphne had stopped laughing. Everyone around them was staring. "We told Persephone. We didn't know you were going with her," Pansy said, as though she thought this was calming.

"So you were going to send her alone? You think that's better? You don't send someone to face a boggart alone!"

"It's just a boggart," Pansy said.

Draco's hands gripped the table like claws. He wanted to hit her.

"It's okay, Draco," Persephone said in a small voice and put her hand on his arm. "It's okay. It was just a boggart."

"Draco, are you okay?" Pansy asked again.

"Come on," Persephone murmured to him. Calming him against his will. "Let's sit down. She didn't know what it would do. It might help if you eat something."

Draco did not want to sit. He wanted to throw things and rage, but he was aware of all the eyes on him now. He sat down shaking with rage now as much as fear. He could not eat though. After a while, Persephone forced some chocolate onto him. Everyone else seemed afraid to speak to him. He could tell he had spoiled their mood, and it gave him some vicious satisfaction.

When the feast ended, he trudged back to the dorm. He pulled the curtains shut on his bed and curled into a fetal position, clutching his pillow and waiting for his shakes to subside. He stayed in bed the next morning, skipping breakfast and lunch. He did not want to face the other students. Sometime after noon, he fished a book from his school bag and tried to read. Around two, Crabbe parted the curtains, startling him.

"Are you okay?" he asked. "Do you need Madam Pomfrey?"

"No, I'm fine," Draco said, knowing that he was not convincing anyone.

"Well, we brought you a plate," Crabbe said. "It's on the dresser."

"Thanks," Draco said. He wanted to ask if the story had started circulating yet but could not manage it. Crabbe looked extremely worried.

"Are you going to be okay for Quidditch practice?"

Draco blinked at him. Quidditch? "Yeah, yeah, just let me get dressed." He had some vague idea that going out into the sun might warm him. But the air was cool. The broom gave him some comfort, but it was a hollow one. He could not focus on what he was supposed to be doing.

Captain Weatherby flew up beside him. "Hey, Malfoy, why don't you just head back to bed, okay?"

"Sure," Draco said and numbly set back down and headed back to his dorm. He lay down in his bed without bothering to change out of his uniform. He was aware at some point that the other boys were whispering. He slept. He woke. Crabbe forced him to eat a sandwich. He tried to read. He tried to drown himself in the bath but could not go through with it. He slept again. He woke again. He was told to get dressed and found himself muscled downstairs for breakfast.

_They'll know by now_, he thought. _Everyone will know by now._ But no one said anything about his boggart or Persephone's. She sat beside him, her hand on his back. She was telling him to eat. He did, but he could not taste anything. He found himself in Charms class. Potter, Granger, and Weasley were there. He avoided looking at them. They were there again in Defense Against the Dark Arts. He could feel their eyes on him but hid behind Nott. By Transfiguration, he was wondering what they were waiting for. He wondered why everyone was not snickering and pointing. By Potions, he realized they must not have told anyone, but this made him anxious too. He dreaded seeing Snape, sure that Persephone would have confided in him, but Snape showed no signs of anything unusual. His face was not heavy with disappointment, though he gave Draco a curious glance. Pansy tried to talk to him again, but he ignored her.

He said something to Persephone about Harry, but she was not willing to entertain the subject. "He laughed. That was horrible, really horrible, and he just laughed." Draco thought she was being unfair but could not work up the energy to argue with her. He skipped Astronomy so he would not have to face Granger alone. He made it to another weekend and still no one was discussing his boggart. He did not understand why they had not told, but it seemed by some miracle they chose silence.

He awoke from his stupor with a fresh determination. He renewed his efforts in his studies and conjured teacups. They had passed Patronuses for the time being, so he did not worry about them. Quidditch became fun again. He forgave Pansy and started talking to her at breakfast. He kept his silence in Astronomy, and Granger kept hers.

o

* * *

o

The first game of the season came on a clear day in the second weekend of the month. Slytherin was not playing. It was Gryffindor verses Hufflepuff, but they would play both teams at a later date. Draco could not say who he wanted to win, but it was shaping up to be a good game all the same. Both teams were fairly evenly matched. The Hufflepuff Beaters were far superior, but then Gryffindor had better Chasers. He was a good thirty minutes into the game before he noticed that Persephone was missing.

It was not so much panic as a creeping feeling of unease that set upon him. He tried to ignore it and focus on the game, but he felt guilty for ignoring it. He said something to Crabbe about needing to use the facilities, though he doubted that he heard him over the cheers as Hufflepuff scored their fourth goal, and slipped out of the stands. He jogged back to the castle, assuring himself that everything was fine.

The castle felt very lonely with all the students and most of the teachers at the match. He decided to start with the Slytherin common room, though he peeked into the Great Hall as he passed.

His footsteps echoed more loudly than usual as he made his way into the dungeons. He did not realize how worried he had been until he found Persephone sitting in the common room with her Arithmancy homework spread out in front of her. "What are you doing in here?" he asked. The room was deserted except for Persephone and the Dey children.

"I'm not that fond of Quidditch," Persephone said.

Draco gaped at her. "Not fond of Quidditch?" He looked at the Deys. "What about you?"

"Our father does not approve of Quidditch," Victoria said.

Draco could not think of anything to say to this. He took Persephone's arm instead. "Everyone's at the Quidditch match. It's going to look funny if you're not there."

"Oh, I don't think so," she said. "I never go to Quidditch matches."

"Maybe you never used to, but you should now."

"Do I have to?" she whined.

"Do you-Have you-How on earth-Yes, you have to come."

She pouted and slowly packed away her homework.

"Just leave it," he told her. "Victoria won't steal it. You can get it after the game is over."

"Won't everyone have noticed I'm not there by now, anyway?" she muttered in the same whiny tone.

"Better late than completely absent," he said stubbornly. She let him drag her towards the door. "Didn't your brother play Quidditch?"

"Yes."

"And you never went to any of his matches?"

"I told you. I don't like Quidditch."

"That certainly explains a lot. Don't like Quidditch? Were you planning on not coming to my games?" Draco closed the door to the Slytherin common room behind them.

"There you are!" a haggard voice called.

Draco swirled around. It took him a few seconds, but he soon recognized the man striding towards them was Remus Lupin. Draco really only knew three things about Lupin. One, he was always shabbily dressed and today was no exception. Two, he had otherwise been a reasonably competent Defense Against the Dark Arts professor during Draco's third year. And three, he was a werewolf.

With everyone else at the Quidditch match, Draco knew that he and Persephone were on their own once again. Draco raised his wand. "Stop right there!"

Lupin stopped about twenty feet away and gave Draco a dark look. "Put that wand away, Mr. Malfoy," he said softly.

"No." Draco spared a quick glance at Persephone, who was watching Lupin uncertainly.

"Put it away," Lupin repeated using a more authorial tone of voice.

"You're not a professor anymore," Draco snapped. "I don't have to listen to you."

Lupin considered this and put his hands up in a sort of defensive shrug. "I merely wish to have a little private chat with Persephone."

"Do you think I'd let her go anywhere with a werewolf?"

Persephone gasped. Draco glanced at her again and found delight where he had expected fear.

"REMUS!" she shouted gleefully. She ran past Draco and launched her arms around the former professor. Her caught her and swung her a quarter turn as he hugged her. He dropped her back down to the ground and held her out at arms length.

"My poor little bird," he said with a smile. "I thought we'd lost you."

They both seemed to have forgotten that Draco was there. Draco dropped his wand and closed his dropped jaw. "What the devil is going on?" he demanded.

"Oh, Draco, this is Remus Lupin," Persephone said as if they had never met. "He was a good friend of James!"

"I thought you didn't like James!"

Persephone cocked her head to the side and looked at him as though he were very silly. "Well, _Remus_ isn't _James_ now is he?" Draco felt a little dizzy. Had the girl known EVERYONE in the wizarding world? "Don't worry. He's all right," she assured him, then a serious frown fell over her expression. "How did you know that he was a werewolf?"

"Not much of secret anymore," Remus said. "Afraid I had to give up my teaching position here when that got out."

"You were a professor!" Persephone beamed, forgetting Draco again. "Bully for you. What did you teach?"

"Defense Against the Dark Arts," he said mock-grandly. "But enough about me. I came to find out about you. Where have you been?"

Persephone knocked his hand off her shoulder. "In someone's attic! I've been sitting in an attic for twenty years with a dusty old cloth over my head and nothing to do!" She punched Lupin's shoulder. "Where were you?"

Draco was still recovering from shock, and this knocked him back again. It was the first time he heard Persephone say a single word of complaint about her imprisonment since he had rescued her, and he had never heard the cross tone she was using.

Lupin smiled at her sadly and touched her cheek. "Everywhere, my poor little darling."

"_Severus_ went looking for me, you know," she said in the same sharp tone, though there was an undercurrent of pride.

"I know."

"Everyone else gave up, and I was just sitting in someone's attic."

"If Severus couldn't find you, what chance did the rest of us have anyway?"

Persephone grinned at this, and Draco realized her anger had only been half serious. Lupin seemed to have understood this from the start, which made Draco feel even more like an outsider. Lupin took Persephone by the shoulders again. He seemed to share in the apprehension that she might go vanishing again if not held down. He looked at Draco with a probing eye. "Which makes me very curious to know how young Malfoy here managed it. Tell me, whose attic were you in?"

Draco wanted to be back outside the conversation again. "I promised not to tell, Remus," Persephone kept her sharp tone. "And if you keep badgering me about it, I really will get cross with you!"

Former Professor Lupin sunk to his knees, which put him slightly below eye level with Persephone. "But why, my darling? How can we protect you from it, if you won't tell us what happened?"

"That danger's already gone, Remus," Persephone said. Draco wished he could feel as certain as she sounded. "Besides, everyone's watching me like a hawk now. And I didn't think anyone was supposed to know I was here…who told you?"

"Dumbledore of course," Lupin reported. "Probably figured I'd put two and two together anyway."

"Did he forget what the word 'secret' means while he was at it?" Draco snarled. "Why'd he tell you I was involved?"

"He didn't," Lupin said. "He told me a student, not Harry, had unexpectedly showed up with a little silver-headed girl we had been missing. Your mother sent owls to nearly half the country looking for you, and then there was that _Quibbler_ article. Two and two."

Draco was not convinced the werewolf had just put things together, but he realized he had just confirmed away any doubts Lupin may have had. He narrowed his eyes and quietly fumed. Lupin turned his attention back to Persephone. "How'd old Severus take it when you showed up out of the blue?"

"He took it alright," Persephone grinned even more broadly.

"And Harry? Spitting image of James isn't he?"

"Just like James," Persephone's grin faded. "I haven't told him, yet."

"Why not?"

"It's not like I haven't tried," Persephone whined. "But he won't let me get him alone. It's like he's afraid I'm going to hex him or something."

Lupin laughed hard enough to turn slightly pink and got to his feet, "Oh dear, poor Harry."

"Poor, Harry?" Persephone repeated incredulously. "Poor me. Poor Draco. That's Ron fellows always about him, and he says the most beastly things."

Lupin stifled his laughter and tried to sound serious. "Draco can be fairly beastly himself, if I remember. Ron's a good friend to Harry. He's just trying to protect him. You have to remember, there are a lot of people out there who would do awful things to Harry if they could get him alone. He and his friends have learned to be wary of strangers." Persephone still looked sulky. "I'll tell him to have a word with you, okay?"

She nodded. Draco was standing right there, wishing they would either keep him in or out of the conversation. He wanted to go back and watch the rest of the Quidditch match, but he refused to leave Persephone alone with a werewolf, no matter how well she thought she knew him.

"Now to be fair, Persephone, I have looked for you," Lupin said. "I'm afraid a lot of people assumed you were dead after it came out that You-Know-Who had hunted down your family. But I followed up leads as I came across them. The handful I found went nowhere."

"Well, I suppose I'll forgive you then," Persephone said. "Severus tell you all the places he looked for me?"

"Some of them," Lupin said with a sad smile. "You're not getting into trouble are you?"

"Me? I'm the good girl, remember?"

Lupin regarded her warily. "I always had my doubts about that."

"Liar," she said in the same mock-cross tone.

He chuckled. "Still the angel among the demons?"

"All the demons were once angels," she said.

"I'm still here," Draco reminded them.

"You can go on to the game if you like, Draco," Persephone said in a let-the-grownups-talk tone.

Draco crossed his arms, wand still in hand, stubbornly refusing to budge. Lupin was regarding him once again. "So what are you, Mr. Malfoy? Fallen angel or penitent demon?"

"I'm an annoyed seventeen-year-old wizard who isn't fond of werewolves," Draco said.

"Not a fan of the abstract concept either, I see."

Persephone giggled. "Stop picking on Draco and come tell me about yourself," she said taking his hand. She led him into the empty Potions classroom and sat on one of the desks. Draco followed them, not really wanting to be there but not willing to leave. They must have talked for nearly an hour, comparing notes on people he did not know and laughing at jokes he did not get. He knew Captain Weatherby was going to kill him for missing so much of the game. It was probably over by now.

"Well, I'm afraid I do have to get going," Lupin said. He leaned forward and gave her temple a quick kiss. "_You_ need to be careful. Wanting people to be good does not make them good, Persephone."

"It doesn't make them bad either," she said.

"You are hopeless." Lupin said with a sigh and turned to Draco. "Look after her, Mr. Malfoy. And good luck on your next game. I hear Ravenclaw's new Seeker is very fast." The werewolf gave them both a pleasant smile and left the room.

"Well, that wasn't weird," Draco said surlily.

Persephone was beaming. She hopped off the desk and took Draco's hand. "Oh, Remus is all right. Come on, you can still catch the end of the game."

Not very optimistic, Draco stalked back towards the Quidditch field with Persephone swinging his arm beside him. She was chatting very happily about how nice it was for Lupin to pay her a visit and making a very long list of people that she would like to look up again given the chance.

_So what are you, Mr. Malfoy? Fallen angel or penitent demon?_

_Stupid Question._ I'm human.

To his surprise and delight the game was still in full swing. He led Persephone up into the stands. It was a high scoring game. Gryffindor had a slight lead. He spotted the Snitch and bit his lip, but neither Potter nor the Hufflepuff Chaser seemed to notice. He soon understood why Persephone never went to Quidditch matches. She seemed to be infinitely more worried about the well being of the players than the score. While everyone else was yelling and cheering she was gasping and whimpering. She covered her eyes and cried out over things he considered minor bumps. She gave a loud scream when a Bludger nicked Potter's shoulder knocking him into a short spin. Draco thought she was going to start crying and assured her that he would be fine. By the end of the game she was shaking so badly that he felt very guilty for having dragged her out, and quite happy for her to stay in the dorm during his own game.


	12. The Thing Hermione Saw

**Disclaimer:** This story is based on the Harry Potter novels written by J.K. Rowling. All characters created by J.K. Rowling are owned by J.K. Rowling. The few characters created by me (i.e. Persephone, Hotchet, Kagome…) belong to me, but are available for use in other fics as long as I get credited as their creator. None of us are making any money off this and no infringement is intended.

* * *

o

**Level 1.5: The Thing Hermione Saw**

Neville looked particularly glum at breakfast.

"What's wrong, Neville?" Hermione asked.

"Nothing," Neville said with a heavy sigh.

"Oh, there's Padma. I need to ask her something," Hermione said and got up from the table.

"Come on, Neville, what's wrong? You can tell us," Ron said encouragingly.

Neville considered this. He cast a quick glance around to make sure Hermione was still gone and leaned in towards Ron. "If you must know, I asked Persephone to meet me in Hogsmeade, and she turned me down."

"But that was a week ago," said Harry.

"Oh, I don't really mind her turning me down. She acted really sorry that she couldn't go, said she didn't have a permission slip." Neville sighed again. "Only Lavender Brown said Draco Malfoy stayed behind too, so now I'm thinking..."

"That she blew you off to stay with Malfoy?" Ron supplied. Neville twitched but nodded. Ron shook his head. "Now really, Neville, do you want a girl thick enough to take up with Malfoy?"

"I suppose not," Neville said, not showing any signs of being cheered up.

"And she's not exactly a looker is she?" Ron continued. "I mean the hair's weird, yeah, but beyond that she's kind of chubby. Her shoulders are a bit too broad for a girl, and her knees are really flat."

"What're you doing looking at her knees?" asked Harry.

"I wasn't looking," Ron said with a slight flush. "I just noticed."

"I think I'm gonna go back to the dorm," Neville said. Hermione returned to the table as Neville was leaving.

"Where's he going?"

"Dorm." Ron looked at Harry. "Can't we tell him? I bet it would cheer him up."

Harry shook his head. "We agreed not to tell anyone other than Dumbledore about what we saw."

"Oh, why not?" Ron said in a slightly sulky tone. "It would be so much fun to mess with him. You know Malfoy would tell the entire school if the situation was reversed."

"But we're better people than he is, remember?" said Hermione.

"Can't I sink to his level just this once?"

"No," Harry said firmly. "We agreed."

"I suppose," Ron muttered. "It was weird though, wasn't it?" he added thoughtfully.

"You mean seeing Voldemort?" Harry said.

Ron shuddered. "Yeah well, that was just plain icky, but at least it's the sort of thing you expect a boggart to turn into. Hers however...that was weird."

Harry nodded. He had been thinking the same thing.

"I wonder," Ron continued. "If maybe we shouldn't have stepped in. I mean if boggarts are mind readers, and she's afraid of telling something, the boggart would be able to read it after a while and tell us, wouldn't it?"

Hermione looked mildly impressed. "It might have. Still I think we did the right thing, didn't we?"

"We did the right thing," Harry said. When he thought back over the events of Halloween night, he kept seeing Malfoy crumpled against the dungeon wall. He wished he could say it served him right. It probably did serve him right, but Harry felt no satisfaction, just pity and curiosity.

Ginny slammed her hands down on the table, making Harry look up. "I don't know what you three did, but you better apologize," she said giving each of them a glare. Harry exchanged baffled looks with Ron and Hermione.

"What we did?" Ron staggered. "What are you talking about?"

"I just talked to Persephone, and she's very upset. What did you do? She says Malfoy won't get out of bed."

Ron smirked, and Ginny narrowed her eyes dangerously at him. "Ron Weasley, you are the most insensitive prat!"

Ron stopped smirking. "Can we tell _her_?" he asked pointedly.

"No," Harry said sharply.

"Tell me what?" Ginny asked, looking more suspicious now than angry.

"We didn't do anything, Ginny," Harry said calmingly. "We just...we walked in on Malfoy and P." Ginny eyes widened so Harry added quickly. "Nothing bad, just rather embarrassing."

"Nothing bad?" Ron echoed incredulously, and Harry shot him a look.

"Is that why she's so upset then?" Ginny asked.

Harry nodded. "She probably thinks we're going to tell." He looked at Ron again. "But we agreed not to."

Curiosity and uncertainty wrestled on Ginny's freckled features. "I suppose if that's all," she said slowly. She sat down and helped herself to a plate. "I thought maybe you'd accused her of working for Voldemort or something."

"No, nothing like that," Harry said, glad Ginny was willing not to ask them more questions.

"That reminds me. I made a list," Hermione said, reaching into her bag. "I really should have done it a month ago, but I just got distracted with all my class work."

"Are you going to explain what you're talking about?" Ron asked lightly.

Hermione seemed to consider whether or not to be annoyed and decided it was too much trouble. "I went through the old school year books for the past twenty years, looking for boys named James." She handed Harry a list with about sixteen names on them. "I think there's a good chance one of them is P.'s brother. I thought we could cross reference them, see if any of them have a sixteen year old sister."

"Couldn't you shorten the list to just P. names?" Ron said. "He would have to be James P. wouldn't he?"

"If that's actually her real name," Hermione said. "I'm not so sure it is. I mean she's obviously trying to hide something, so it's quite possible she changed it."

"Good point," said Ron.

"You know there's something almost impressive about your level of paranoia," Ginny said dryly.

"No," Harry said. He had just had a really crazy thought, but as he turned it over he knew it was impossible.

"What is it, Harry?"

Harry shook his head to clear it. "Well, there's lots of reasons people change their names," he said. "Marriage, divorce, adoption."

"If she's lying about her name, couldn't she be lying about having a brother too?" Ron said.

"She could, but I don't think so," said Hermione. "It sounded like a slip when she mentioned him, and she changed the subject pretty quickly."

"What about that article?" Harry said. "The one Luna was going to ask her dad for?"

"He wrote back," Ron said. "Took him a while, because he searched for it. But apparently it went up in the same accident that took out her mum."

"Rotten luck," Harry said. "Any thoughts on how we could get hold of another copy?"

Hermione shook her head. "Not of an article written twenty years ago. The library keeps issues of the Daily Prophet pretty far back, but not Witch Weekly. It's really disappointing. I was hoping it might give us a hint about who her mother was."

"I suppose the concept of asking her is a bit too foreign?" Ginny said snidely.

"Why don't you ask her?" Ron said. "You talk to her all the time."

"Because I think I know why she changed the subject."

"How come?"

"I think her family's dead."

"Dead?" Hermione repeated.

"Well, her parents are dead at any rate," Ginny said. "Apparently she shouted it across the Slytherin common room. I'm betting they died recently too, because she avoids the subject. Will that help narrow down your search?"

"Yes," Hermione said softly.

"What do you think happened to them?" Harry asked.

"Well, let's see who was going around killing witches and wizards all last year?" Ginny said mock-thoughtfully.

"You mean you think Voldemort killed her parents."

"I'd bet money on it," said Ginny.

o

* * *

o

"Maybe she killed them," Ron said later when Ginny was not close by.

"Ron, that's horrible," Hermione said.

"Explain the boggart though, wouldn't it?" Ron said.

"Shut up, Ron," Harry said. He had told Dumbledore about the form Draco's boggart had taken, but he had glazed over Persephone's. It reminded him that he had not done what he had promised.

"I'm not saying she's necessarily a murderous lunatic," Ron continued. "But she could have done it under the Imperious Curse, that would still bring up a lot of guilt issues right?"

Persephone was not looking any of them in the eye when they passed in the corridors, but Harry thought she looked more angry than guilty. Malfoy on the other hand was doing a fair impression of a zombie. Harry doubted he would have bothered going to classes if the other Slytherins had not dragged him there. He was also avoiding looking them in the eye and flinched when he caught them looking his way. Hermione said he had skived off their Astronomy class.

Harry thought Ron was enjoying the whole thing far too much. "Hey, check this out," Ron said quietly as Draco passed them in the hall. He then proceeded to cough loudly in way that sounded a lot like "Nazi". Draco whirled, caught Ron smiling at him, and hurried off.

"That's not even mildly funny," Harry told him.

Thankfully, Quidditch soon took both their minds off Malfoy. The first game of the season was fast approaching and Ginny had them out practicing every evening. They had a very solid team going, and Ron had started humming "Weasley is Our King" between classes.

They had finished their section on Wolfsbane in Potions and were now heading into more challenging territory.

"Between now and the end of term, you will be drafting proposals for your Potions experiment. We will spend the entirety of next term performing these experiments, and your summer term will be devoted to review for your N.E.W.T.s."

Harry glanced at Hermione to see if she would react at this reminder, but Hermione stayed at perfect attention.

"Experimenting with Potions can be a hazardous occupation," Snape continued. "Thorough preparatory work is essential, and I do not expect anyone to take this assignment lightly." His eyes rested momentarily on Harry. "I will be giving you a great deal of leeway as far as the nature of your experiments, assuming of course that you can justify them in writing.

"It is the nature of experimentation to be to some degree unpredictable. Therefore while success will certainly help your grade, I will be paying more attention to your research and methodology. Your first draft will be due next class period. You may use the remainder of this class to discuss possible topics and ask questions, are we clear?"

Harry figured if they had until the end of term he could save his serious research until after the first match. He had the vague idea of doing something to improve the taste of Polyjuice, and despite Hermione's dire warnings, scratched off a sketchy proposal in less than half an hour. "I'll fix it later," he assured her.

Malfoy gradually recovered in that he started acting less like the living dead, though he still avoided meeting Harry's eyes. As Draco recovered, Persephone grew less hostile. "Hello, Ginny," she called as Harry, Ginny, and Ron climbed the steps back to Gryffindor tower after practice. "Congratulations on winning the game."

Ron made a choked sound, but Ginny just laughed. "Thanks for the vote of confidence, but the game isn't until tomorrow."

"Oh," Persephone said looking slightly confused. "Well, good luck then, Ginny." She added coolly, "Good luck, Harry."

"Am I invisible?" Ron asked as she left. "I'm not a figment of your shared imagination am I?"

"Oh get over it, Ron," Ginny said, sounding unconcerned. "You don't like her anyway."

Ron had certainly put the incident out of his mind by the next day. He smiled roguishly and waved at the large crowd gathered at the Quidditch pitch. They could not have asked for better weather. The sky was clear and the temperature quite pleasant.

"Hey, look Harry!" Ron said pointing at the stands.

Harry looked and caught sight of Remus Lupin. He waved at him, and Lupin waved back with a pleasant smile.

"Wonder what he's doing here?" Ron said.

Harry shrugged. The whistle sounded. The Quaffle was released, and the game began. Harry searched the skies for the Golden Snitch and saw nothing but blue expanse. Trying to resist watching the other players too closely, he kept an ear open for Dennis Creevey's excitable commentary. "Weasley to Oglethorpe. Oglethorpe to Gudgeon. Gudgeon to Weasley. Goal! Weasley scores! Ten points to Gryffindor! Ginny Weasley's the Gryffindor Team Captain, you know! Right well, Hufflepuff's got the Quaffle. Johnston to Pilliwickle. Pilliwickle sends it long to..."

Harry circled the pitch ten times without the slightest glimpse of the Snitch. Gryffindor was maintaining a slight lead, but the Hufflepuff team was holding its own. Hufflepuff Beater Androcles Alderton actually managed to score a goal by knocking a Bludger into the Quaffle and redirecting its path in midair.

Harry searched the stands again but failed to find Lupin. He had little time to ponder this as another Bludger sailed past his head. Harry spotted the Snitch. He made a dive for it, but two well-aimed Bludgers from the Hufflepuff Beaters threatened to unseat him.

The score mounted steadily as the minutes flew by. Sixty to forty. Kirke and Sloper started mimicking the tactics of the Hufflepuff Beaters and made sure the Hufflepuff Seeker, Harmony Bones, had an equally miserable time of it.

Eighty to seventy. When the Hufflepuff Beaters were not picking on Harry they did their best to chase Ron away from the goal. At length Kirke and Sloper had to change tactics and tried unseating the Hufflepuff Beaters instead.

Hundred thirty to hundred ten. Harry made another lazy circle of the pitch. He paused to check the progress of the game and a Bludger slammed into his shoulder, knocking him into a spin. He groaned and pulled himself out of it. His shoulder was very badly bruised by the feel of it and protested against much movement. Harry did not spare much energy on nursing his shoulder. He had just spotted the Snitch. He streaked towards it, dodging a knot of Chasers and another Bludger. The Hufflepuff Seeker caught on and gave chase, but it was too late. Harry's fingers closed around the Snitch, and the whistle sounded ending the game.

Harry set down amidst a wash of Gryffindor cheers. Ginny nearly knocked him over with the enthusiasm of her hug. He was glad his glasses shielded his eyes from the slap of red hair hitting his face, and he wished he had similar protection for his ears. They were ringing from Ginny's scream of "THREE HUNDRED POINTS!"

He lost track of the other Gryffindors who hugged him or slapped his back though he was sure Hermione was in the mix. When the crowd surrounding him thinned, Lupin strode forward and shook his hand. "Well done, Harry."

He leaned forward and added in a lower voice. "Might I have a word?"

Harry nodded and slipped off with Lupin to a quiet corner of the field.

"I want to have a chat with you about your future, Harry."

"Um...okay," said Harry.

"Are you still planning to pursue a career as Auror?"

"If I can pass Potions, yeah," Harry said, wondering why Lupin had come all the way to Hogwarts to discuss this.

"Have you given any thoughts to your living arrangements?"

"I...well, I...no, not really," Harry said feeling ambushed. It was not that he had never thought about it at all. He had just had more pressing things on his mind. As long as he did not have to go back to Privet Drive, he was happy.

"Well then, I wanted to explain at least one of your options," Lupin said. "Currently, Grimmauld Place is in my trust, but Sirius left the house to you, Harry."

"To me?"

"You were the closest thing he had to a son," Lupin said kindly. "I think I had assumed that you would know you were always welcome there, but I seemed to have neglected to formally tell you so. The house falls completely into your possession on your first birthday after you finish your Hogwarts education. At which point you may ask the Order to find a new headquarters if you so wish."

"I wouldn't do that," Harry said resolutely.

"I didn't think you would, but it would be very unethical of me not to give you the opportunity," said Lupin. "I had some other business at Hogwarts today, so I thought I would go ahead and see what your thoughts were. We would need to start looking if for some reason we needed to relocate. Setting up a new headquarters would take time."

"The Order comes first," said Harry just as firmly as before. "What other business did you have?"

"Checking on a rumor," Lupin said. "And spent a little more time doing so than I intended. I'm afraid I do have to run along. One more thing before I go, if Persephone tries to tell you something, do her the courtesy and listen. You may find it...interesting."

"Hello, Professor Lupin." Hermione and Ron had just caught up to them.

"Hello, Hermione, Ron, I'm afraid you caught me just as I was leaving. I will see you all again soon, I hope." With that, he left in the direction of Hogsmeade.

"Come on, Harry," Ron said. "Victory party in the common room."

"What did Lupin want?" Hermione asked as they made their way back to the school.

"He wanted to tell me that Sirius left me Grimmauld Place," Harry said.

"Oh." Hermione looked unsure whether or not to congratulate him.

"I told him the Order could keep it. I don't want to live there, but I guess I'll have to figure out something."

"I suppose we all have to start thinking about post-Hogwarts living arrangements," said Hermione.

"Not now," Ron said urging them forward. "Party."

o

* * *

o

Snape had used red ink to write copious suggestions on their Potions Experiment Proposals. Harry's paper was bleeding with it, but he was happy to see that he was not the only one. Whatever Snape had written on Pansy Parkinson's proposal had her eyes round as saucers, and Megan Jones was practically in tears.

"Well, these should be helpful," Hermione remarked, going over the scratches on her own proposal. Neville was transfixed by his. Harry wanted to see what Snape had written, but Neville quietly slipped the parchment into his bag.

Harry did not bother to read his comments very carefully. He had not intended to stick with his initial proposal anyway.

He only felt mild regret over not putting more effort into it earlier as he was given larger workloads in all his other classes. By the end of term, they were supposed to be able to conjure entire tea sets, cast a workable Protean Charm, a Disillusionment Charm, and a Locator Charm, know and demonstrate the proper care of a Moke (which was tricky because these kept shrinking to the point of being undetectable), and be prepared to explain how they would defend themselves in a number of scenarios, none of which Dumbledore was giving them before the exam.

The Ravenclaws were nearly unbearable with their excitement over their new Seeker, second year Xavier Ekin. Harry was sure he could not be as fast as they were claiming, until he watched the Ravenclaw-Slytherin game. Ekin whirled around the field like a Billywig who had been fed an Energy Potion. The rest of the Ravenclaw team was fairly lamentable, but this only accented that the new Slytherin Chasers were frighteningly good. It was a close game.

Harry now felt mild curiosity when he passed Persephone in the hall, though he seemed to be doing this less than before, but she had abandoned all attempts to talk to him. Dean Thomas told Harry the Forum was losing some of its original focus.

"It's still interesting," Dean said. "But the topics have been rather scattered. She's a little out there. We spent a couple of meetings discussing the Statute of Secrecy. She's all for doing away with it."

"What?" Hermione said in a rather startled voice.

"Yeah, she thinks it creates a lot of unnecessary tensions."

"What do you think?" Harry asked Dean.

"I dunno, mate," said Dean. "I can see where she's coming from, but I grew up with Muggles. I said I thought some of them would be alright, but most of them couldn't handle it."

Harry thought of the Dursleys. "I think you're right." He decided he really should write Dudley.

"And then last week, we spent the whole time discussing a new school song."

"What's wrong with the one we have?" Hermione said irritably.

Dean gave her a bemused look.

Hermione's irritability was beginning to reach the levels that Harry and Ron remembered from their third and fifth years. They knew it meant she was once again overwhelmed or over stressed academically and felt there was nothing to do but ride it out once again. It only worried Harry because she had never before gotten this tense prior to Christmas.

While the Gryffindors knew to safely keep their distance, not everyone was appropriately wary. Ernie Macmillan, in what Harry was sure he intended as a friendly rib, asked Hermione why the Gryffindor prefects were the only ones absent from the Friday evening study groups.

"Well if so many of you are there, you hardly need us do you?" Hermione bit at him.

"I-uh-suppose not," Ernie said, looking somewhat taken aback. "I just thought you'd be the first one for it. You were all about inter-house cooperation last year. Seems a shame that Gryffindor isn't represented."

Hermione glared at Ernie until he hurried off, then she dropped her head in hands and looked ready to burst into tears. "Oo-oh, he's right, Gryffindor should be represented, but I can't take on anymore things like that. I just can't."

"It's okay," Ron said putting a hand on her shoulder. "I'll do it."

"Are you sure?" Hermione said piteously.

"Sure, I'm sure," said Ron. "I think I can handle a few first years. It's only a couple of hours a week."

"Oh, Ron," Hermione sniffed and looked as though she might start crying again. "Thank you so much."

o

* * *

o

There was another Hogsmeade weekend in December. Harry and Ron dragged Hermione away from her books long enough to do a little Christmas shopping. Luna went with them. Harry once again felt a sharp stab of nostalgia for this little postcard village. Logically, he knew he would be free to visit Hogsmeade as often as he liked after he left school, but he felt like the village would lose some of its luster since these would not be Hogsmeade weekends.

Snape handed back their proposals with another set of bleeding comments. At least Harry's was starting to look like it had merely been through a minor scuffle and not crawled out of a horror film.

Hermione was still scowling at her proposal when they got back to the common room. Her parchment had sprung a few bloody paragraphs, which were driving her to distraction. "What does he mean by this? I should consider the incumbent difficulties in extravating...oh you read it." She shoved the parchment into Harry's hands and pointed at the offending sentence.

"I don't even know what half those words mean," Harry said, handing it back to her.

"I know what the words mean," Hermione said irritably. "I just don't know what he means. Oh, I'll just have to ask him." She hurried out of the common room, brushing past Ron at the portal.

Ron joined Harry by the fire. "Library closing early?"

"No, she had to ask Snape something," Harry explained.

Ron stretched luxuriantly. "I think your both balmy, putting up with Snape for two extra years. Look how relaxed I am."

Harry laughed. "Well, Hermione would probably go mad if she didn't have more subjects than she could handle." He tucked his proposal back into his bag. "You'd be surprised though. Snape's actually been... tolerable this term."

"So Ginny says," Ron yawned. "I'm still having no regrets."

Hermione returned to the common room about half an hour later. She drifted in almost Luna-like, sank down into the armchair they had been saving for her, and stared into the fire.

"Did you talk to Snape?" Harry asked, peeking over the top of _The Life of the Auror_. He was only on _Chapter Three: Preparing for the Unexpected_.

Hermione shook her head, still staring into the fire.

"What's wrong?" Ron asked.

Hermione turned her head and opened her mouth. She closed it again without saying a word and fell back in the chair, her brow lined with thought. Ron and Harry exchanged looks.

"I'll have both them out," she muttered hotly after a few minutes. "But I need proof."

"What are you talking about?" asked Ron, but Hermione just shook her head again.

"Right," Ron said. "Silly me, thinking you might explain yourself." But Hermione did not seem to hear him.

o

* * *

o

The next morning Hermione asked Harry if she could borrow his invisibility cloak.

"Sorry," Harry said. "I'm already letting Ron borrow it today."

"What's Ron doing with it?" Hermione asked, sounding both sulky and slightly curious.

"Luna and I use it when we go into the Dark Forest," Ron said as he joined them. "Bit safer that way."

"What do you want with it anyway?" Harry asked.

Hermione pursed her lips. "I'd rather not say just yet."

She was saved from further inquiries by Hedwig who landed on the table with a letter addressed to Harry. The letter bore a stamp, and Harry recognized the awkward handwriting across the envelope. "It's from Dudley," he said as he took the letter from Hedwig and patted her head. There was a note written hastily across the back of the envelope.

Wanted to send this months ago, but couldn't figure out how until your letter arrived.

Hedwig helped herself to Harry's breakfast while he opened the letter.

_Dear Harry,_

Some strange people came looking for you. I think they put some kind spell on Mum, because she let them stay. One of them was a grey-haired lady who claimed she was your dead aunt. The other one was young, about our age, said his name was Marvin Smith, but I think he was lying. I overheard the lady call him Drake.

Harry clenched his fist, crumpling the letter. He jumped to his feet, ignored Ron and Hermione's questions, and stormed over to the Slytherin table. Some of the Slytherins took notice of him as he stopped an arms length away, his wand out and held with great restraint by his side. He ignored them and glared at the back of Draco Malfoy's blonde head.

"Malfoy!"

Draco turned his head and cocked his eyebrows in away that made Harry want to hit him even more. "Potter?"

"What were you doing at my house?" Harry demanded.

The change that came over Malfoy's face was subtle and unreadable. "Looking for you, obviously," he said as he turned around so that he faced Harry and leaned back with his elbows propped lightly against the table.

There was stir among the other Slytherins that told Harry this was not a story Malfoy had shared with them.

"I wasn't there," said Harry with an air of challenge, hoping to goad Malfoy into more of an explanation.

"And thus my brilliant plans were foiled," Malfoy said in a bored tone.

Harry once again resisted the urge to hit him. "Why were you looking for me?"

Malfoy's eyes seemed to look past Harry, and the corner of his mouth twitched into an ironic smirk. "You wouldn't believe me if I told you."

"Tell me anyway," said Harry stiffly. Though he had not consciously moved it, his wand was now pointing at Malfoy's feet rather than his own.

Malfoy considered him for a moment and then shrugged. "It doesn't matter anymore. You weren't there. I left."

"You weren't alone," Harry said.

Draco put a finger to his lips as though giving the matter some thought. Then his smirk returned. "No, I had your aunt for company."

Harry had grabbed Draco by the collar before he was fully aware of what he was doing. "If you hurt her…" he began but left the threat unspoken.

Malfoy was clearly startled by the sudden move. He held his arms out for balance, and the cockiness drained out of his demeanor. "Are you worried about those Muggles?" he asked as though the thought was genuinely new to him.

Harry scowled. He was not sure why he suddenly felt so defensive of the Dursleys. Maybe it was because Dudley had finally been nice to him this summer. Maybe it had not occurred to him before that Privet Drive, where he had been safe if not happy, was no longer safe in his absence.

"Relax, Potter, I didn't touch them," Draco said.

"You put a spell on Aunt Petunia," Harry hissed.

"No, I didn't," Malfoy said very quietly.

Harry released Malfoy's collar, shoving him back into his seat. "If I hear differently," he breathed just loudly enough for Draco to hear. "If you or your friends enter my house again, you're dead. Understand?"

The look on Malfoy's face was more awed than worried. Harry became aware of McGonagall's quick steps. "What's going on here?" she demanded.

"Nothing, Professor," Malfoy said. "Just a little misunderstanding."

Professor McGonagall looked at Harry, but he gave no further explanation. She pressed her lips tightly together. "Go back to your seat, Potter," she said finally. With a last glance at Malfoy, Harry obeyed.

o

* * *

o

The conversation with Malfoy became more perplexing the more Harry thought it over, but he had little time to do that. Their exams were upon them.

Harry found himself capable of producing a tea set. Though he lost points for forgetting the sugar bowl and not having the same number of cups as saucers. Ron's Moke escaped, but Hagrid assured him he would still get some points for knowing all the principles of Moke care. Hermione was preoccupied by something and for once did not attempt to give them detailed accounts of her exam experiences.

Snape's exam was nearly all written, focusing on experiment methodology, and they handed in the final drafts of their proposals. "And I would like you to see me in my office after class, Ms. Granger," Snape added after he told them their time was up.

"No!" Hermione said, looking startled.

Everyone looked at her.

"What did you say?" Snape asked, looking nearly as confused as the rest of them.

"No," Hermione repeated, firmly this time. "I'm not staying after class."

Snape considered her for a moment, while Hermione stared defiantly back at him. Harry was sure she had gone too far and wondered if she had finally snapped under exam pressures.

The anger drained off Snape's face, and his lip curled into a small, tight smile. "Very well, then. Mr. Longbottom, you will stay."

Neville, who was already looking at Hermione worriedly, went a little paler, but he did not dare argue with Professor Snape.

"What was that about?" Harry asked Hermione when they were safely out of the classroom.

Hermione did not answer, though she was muttering under her breath. She seemed a bit confused and was fuming as though Snape had said something rather insulting to her.

"Hermione, how much sleep have you been getting every night?"

"Enough," she said.

"How much is enough?"

"I don't know, three or four hours at least."

"Three or four?" Harry took her arm to stop her. "You do know the average human requires seven?"

"I'm fine," Hermione insisted. "I'll sleep over the holidays."

"I don't think it works like that," Harry said.

"I said, 'I'm fine'. I don't do all the physical activity you and Ron do. I just don't need as much sleep."

They were still arguing about it, when Neville caught up to them looking a bit dazed. "What did he want, Neville?" Harry asked.

"He gave me a scholarship," Neville said as though he still did not believe it.

"He what?"

"They're starting a wizarding college in America, and they asked Professor Snape to recommend a student for the Potions Program," Neville explained. "He said my proposal was really brilliant. It showed a good use of integrating material from other disciplines...I had theories on alternative uses for _Dentatus Pelargonium_ in...well, he was going to offer it to Hermione first since her marks had been consistently the highest, but said you seemed to not want it." He looked at Hermione apologetically.

Hermione just stared at Neville as though not comprehending. "I'll tell him you should have it if you like," Neville said generously. "I'm sure you didn't know what he wanted to discuss."

"Oh, no, you keep it Neville," Hermione said as though waking up. "I'm very happy for you. You deserve it. You've been working really hard." Neville smiled at her.

Ron could not believe it either. "He gave _Neville_ a scholarship? But he hates Neville. Maybe someone's got the real Snape locked up in trunk. Do you think we should search his office?"

Harry told Ron that he could use the invisibility cloak if he liked, but he, Harry, was not going anywhere near Snape's office.

o

* * *

o

The end of exams heralded the start of the Christmas holidays. Harry, Ron, and Hermione had received invitations from both Hermione and Ron's parents to spend the holidays with them, but Harry had the idea of working on some more D.A. issues. As his days to leave Hogwarts were ticking down, he felt the inevitable day when he would have to face Lord Voldemort looming ever closer.

He had turned the Room of Requirement into a sort of war room. The walls were lined with photos of Death Eaters and articles about Voldemort. There was a map of Europe with magically glowing, color-coded marks where there had been reports of Death Eater activity. Books about Voldemort and the rise of the Dark Arts were now sporting colored tabs wherever some one had found a potentially useful passage. Harry was hoping he, Ron, and Hermione could make something of it all, now that their brains were no longer cluttered by their studies. Ginny and the Patil twins had volunteered to stay behind and join the think tank as had a handful of other D.A. members.

The other boys in their dorm were headed home for the holidays. Neville had gotten over his initial shock at getting the scholarship and was babbling about how his Gran would react when he told her. Luna was spending Christmas with her dad as well and stopped by the Gryffindor table at breakfast to bid them farewell.

"Wait a minute, Luna, here comes..." Ron trailed off, and Harry turned to see what he was gaping at. Ginny was exchanging a farewell hug with a girl with long dark hair.

"Isn't that...?" Harry began.

"That's the new Slytherin Chaser!" Ron squeaked. "Ginny, what do you think you're doing?" he demanded as she joined them.

"Whaddaya mean?" Ginny asked, taking a piece of fruit.

"You...you're fraternizing with the enemy!"

"Ronald Bilius Weasley, what the devil are you talking about?"

"Bilius?" Luna giggled.

Ron ignored her. "You were _hugging_ Chesann Blampied! She's on the Slytherin team!"

Ginny shrugged. "Quit being so melodramatic, Ron. She's a great girl."

"But she's on the Slytherin team! She's the bloody Chaser!"

"Well, I've got to go," said Luna.

"Bye, Luna," they all murmured, except Ron who was still gaping at Ginny and gave a halfhearted wave. Luna waved good bye and drifted away quickly.

"Ron, has it ever occurred to you that there's more to life than Quidditch?"

Ron looked horrified. "You're team Captain!"

"That's right," Ginny said. "I am. And I promise to try to knock Chess off her broom when the next game rolls around, but in the meantime, I don't see the point in showing blatant animosity."

"That sounds like a healthy attitude," Hermione said.

"Traitor," Ron muttered.

"Well, it beats everyone trying to curse each other in halls, doesn't it?" Hermione said pointedly.

"Can we try not to start off Christmas holidays with a row?" Harry muttered. "Ginny, aren't you just a little worried about chumming up with the Slytherins?"

"Nope," Ginny said and popped a berry in her mouth. "They're individuals, Harry, not a multi-headed monster, and I'm not chumming up with all of them."

"Speaking of snakes, P. and Malfoy are staying for Christmas," Hermione said.

Ginny groaned. "Oh, would you stop already-"

o

* * *

o

The think tank was not starting out as well as Harry had hoped. He had set Padma and Parvati to looking in the Library for the dark creature rituals book that P. had mentioned, but they were not having any luck finding it. Ron kept wanting to take breaks, and Hermione was still preoccupied with something. No one else was having much luck focusing now that they were free of exams. Ginny and Annie Howard kept tossing around possible lyrics for a new school song, and these were getting progressively sillier.

Harry tried to make himself relax, but he felt tense and coiled. He tried to cheer himself with the reminder that so many people had stayed to help him, but this only made him feel guilty. Oddly enough Zacharias Smith was the one who managed to ease his mind.

"I'll be honest," Smith said. "I'm not here for you, Potter. I'm here to fight Voldemort."

Around five o'clock, Hermione asked once again if she could borrow Harry's invisibility cloak. Harry was tempted to tell her no or demand to know what she wanted it for, but he was too tired to argue with her.

She returned to the common room sometime after dinner with the cloak and Colin Creevey's camera, but she still looked disappointed.

Harry wanted to confront Malfoy again, but Malfoy was clinging to the Slytherin common room and avoiding all the places Harry might be able to corner him.

o

* * *

o

They had all agreed to take Christmas day off. Harry awoke Christmas morning in a relatively good mood and found a nice pile of presents awaiting him. He and Ron took theirs downstairs so they could open them with Hermione and Ginny.

Hermione nearly cried over receiving her first Weasley sweater. It was white with an interlocking "HG" in gold colored yarn. She pulled Crookshanks onto her lap and buried her eyes in his fur to recover herself. Ron looked extremely uncomfortable at this, but Hermione assured him she was just happy and a little tired.

Harry unwrapped his own sweater, red with an "HB" sewn in a similar interlocking style. He guessed it was for Head Boy and was a little reluctant to put it on.

Ginny decided against donning her pink sweater. She gave Hermione a new diary, Harry a book on trying out for Professional Quidditch teams ("Just in case"), and Ron a gift certificate for Weasleys' Wizarding Wheezes. Fred and George had sent them all an extra set of Extendable Ears.

They spent the morning comparing the rest of their booty and went down to the Great Hall together for lunch. "Happy Christmas, P.!" Ginny yelled across the room to the Slytherin table.

"Happy Christmas, Ginny!" Persephone yelled back.

Hermione glanced up at the half-empty staff table and seemed to come to a decision about something. "I'll be right back," she said.

Harry took seats at the Gryffindor table with Ron, and Ginny left them to sit with Parvati and a couple of sixth year students. He watched Hermione make her way over to the Slytherin table. Persephone was holding a thick book and beamed at her when she approached. They exchanged a few words. Harry could not hear what they were saying. Hermione said something that made Persephone's face fall. Daphne Greengrass tossed her party colored hair and made her own comment. Hermione gave her a disgusted look and walked back to the Gryffindor table looking grimly satisfied.

"Don't suppose you're going to tell us what that was about?" said Ron.

"I'd rather not just yet," Hermione said and helped herself to a plate. "I want to talk to Professor Dumbledore first."

o

* * *

o

They lingered at the table, eventually sliding down and joining Ginny and Parvati's group. They were about ready to leave when Professor McGonagall caught them. "You three," she said. "Dumbledore would like to see you in his office."

"Well, there you go," Ron said.

They followed Professor McGonagall to Dumbledore's office. She left them at the door. Dumbledore was standing at his desk. There were five comfortable looking chairs lined up in front of it. He motioned them forward. Harry was surprised to see the first two chairs in the line were occupied by Persephone and Professor Snape. Both were looking serious and Persephone slightly worried.

"Please sit, down," Dumbledore said. They did so, Hermione taking the center chair beside Persephone, and Dumbledore took his own seat. "I am disappointed in you three," he began. Hermione's mouth fell open. Harry and Ron simply stared at the headmaster with baffled expressions.

"In us?" Hermione repeated incredulously.

Dumbledore gave her admonishing glance. "Yes, Ms. Granger, in you. Happily I have not had frequent occasions to be so, but today I am. Harry, I do not completely understand your reasons for lying to me, but I hope we will be able to set everything right. Ms. Granger you have been unduly rude to Professor Snape. I'm sure you also had your reasons, but you are still a student and bound by the protocols of this school."

Hermione looked ready to launch into another protest, but Dumbledore silenced her with another stern look.

Ron coughed softly. "And, what did I do, sir?"

Dumbledore gave him a tight smile. "Nothing, as far as I know, Mr. Weasley, but it seemed more efficient to include you."

"Right," said Ron in a soft I'm-sure-that-makes-perfect-sense-somehow tone.

"Before we get started, I think you should apologize to Professor Snape, Ms. Granger, and I understand you said something rather upsetting to Persephone as well."

This seemed to be too much for Hermione. "Me? Apologize?"

"Headmaster, I don't think-"

"Quiet, Severus," Dumbledore said gently and turned his attention back to Hermione. "Ms. Granger, I understand you have been under a great deal of pressure lately but that does not excuse rudeness. I would like for you to calm down."

"Calm down?" Hermione was being to look livid. "Do you know-"

"Right, now I need you to listen-"

"I will not!"

"Hermione..." Harry murmured.

Dumbledore stood up. "Ms. Granger, I expected better of you, but if-"

"I saw him kiss her!" Hermione shouted and glared at Snape.

Hermione was breathing heavily. Dumbledore for the first time Harry could remember seemed to be at a loss for words. Snape's elbow had slipped off the arm where he had it propped, and he stared back at Hermione equally incapable of speech. Harry could not see Ron but was sure his shocked face mirrored his own as he too gazed at Hermione. The stunned silence might have lasted several minutes if Persephone had not jumped to her feet.

"He did not!" she yelled, looking just as angry as Hermione. Hermione tilted her head as though daring Persephone to call her a liar, and Persephone wilted and looked suddenly apologetic. She turned to Dumbledore. "I kissed him, Professor. He had done something very nice for me, and I was grateful. I know I shouldn't have, but you know my situation."

"You're situation?" Hermione repeated, sounding twice as incredulous as Dumbledore's expression softened.

"He told me not to do it again. He said I would be in trouble if I did."

"Oh yes," Hermione said sarcastically. "He looked furious, was really fighting you off."

Persephone whirled on her. "Well, what did you want him to do—hit me?"

"Persephone, that's enough," Dumbledore said gently. "This is all making a little more sense now." His eyes flickered briefly to Snape. "I think we can clear much of it up with a simple introduction."

"An introduction?" Hermione repeated, but far more softly this time.

"Persephone, if you would introduce yourself properly."

Persephone nodded and took a deep breath.

"Persephone Potter," she said, sticking out her hand to Harry as though she expected him to shake it. Harry just stared back at her. His brain was starting to hurt. "James Potter was my brother. I'm your aunt, Harry."

"You can't be his aunt," Ron said. "You're younger than he is."

"Actually, I'm thirty-six," Persephone said. "I've been enchanted into a painting for the past twenty years, which is why I look like I haven't aged."

Oddly enough, Harry was not having too much trouble with this part of the conversation. It bothered him more that Snape had not risen in an angry denial but seemed to be attempting to sink through his chair.

"What's this got to do with, Snape?" Ron asked.

"Severus was my best friend when I was at Hogwarts before," Persephone said.

"You're kidding," Ron said.

"I'm afraid she's not," Dumbledore said. "It was not my intention for you to go this long without an explanation, Harry. Persephone had asked to be the one to tell you who she was, and I was trying to respect that wish. Had I realized she would put it off this long, however, I would have had a meeting like this much sooner." He gave Persephone a stern look this time. She looked abashed and sat back down.

"Persephone Potter disappeared from the Hogwarts grounds near the end of her fifth year," Dumbledore explained. "Voldemort had begun his rise to power at that point but had not yet been attributed with the murders and kidnappings he and his followers had committed. Some believed she had wandered into the Forbidden Forest and gotten lost, but this seemed highly unlikely. Persephone's rather unique condition causes most animals to perceive her as unnatural and some of them react very strongly to her. She generally avoided them."

"Crookshanks," Hermione said softly.

Dumbledore nodded. "Not long after Ms. Potter's disappearance, Voldemort showed his true colors. It was distressing for many of us to think that Voldemort was capable of taking a student from the Hogwarts' grounds undetected, but it seemed the most likely scenario. I am somewhat relieved after twenty years to learn that this was not in fact the case."

Harry found his voice. "How did she disappear then?"

"That I'm afraid still remains a mystery," said Dumbledore. "Unless of course, you care to enlighten us, Persephone?"

Persephone shook her head. "I promised not to tell."

Dumbledore sighed.

"You promised not to tell?" Ron repeated. "Rather convenient isn't it?"

"No, it's not convenient at all," Persephone said irritably. "But I promised, and I keep my promises."

"How do you know she is who she says she is?" Hermione asked. Her voice was now calm but still wary.

"I certainly considered the possibility that Voldemort might be trying to reach Harry by resurrecting a dead family member," Dumbledore said. "I had Madam Pomfrey employ a number of tests to verify her identity. Beyond that however, it would be very difficult for someone to reproduce all the effects of Persephone's condition."

"Luna said she could affect minds," Harry said tentatively.

"Is that why you've been avoiding her?" Dumbledore asked.

"Pretty much," Harry said.

"Did you believe my mind similarly affected?"

Harry looked down abashed, but Dumbledore did not sound angry. If anything, he sounded slightly amused. "I think Ms. Lovegood may be exaggerating a bit," the headmaster said.

"No," Hermione said. "I've watched her. The way people respond to her. It isn't natural."

"I said I believed Ms. Lovegood was exaggerating not that she was entirely incorrect," Dumbledore said. "Persephone Potter is quite possibly the most naturally manipulative person I've ever known."

Persephone looked as though she had just been betrayed by her most trusted friend.

Dumbledore continued, "I was able to observe her for five years before her abduction and watched her more closely this year than she realizes, though apparently not closely enough. It is my belief that Persephone has the effect of a living, breathing Cheering Charm, and whether by intent or instinct she uses this ability to her full advantage. But I have seen no evidence to support that she can convince anyone to do something against their will." Persephone crossed her arms and frowned sulkily. Dumbledore smiled patiently at her. "Though she seems to have gotten on your bad side, she is generally a very kind and thoughtful girl. I have never known her to abuse her ability." There may have been a light admonition in the last sentence. Harry was not sure.

"Now, if you four would step outside for a moment and get reacquainted, I would like to have a word with Professor Snape."

They stood, and with a flick of his wand, Dumbledore sent their chairs to the short hall just outside the door. They filed out, and Harry shut the door behind them. It did not occur to any of them to reach for the Extendable Ears in their pockets. Persephone sank down in the seat to the left of the door. Harry and Hermione sat in the ones across from her, and Ron pulled the forth chair over so that he was closer to Harry and Hermione.

They looked at each other awkwardly for a few moments, then Persephone turned to watch the door. "I'm going to be sick if he's in trouble," she said softly. "I'm just going to be sick."

It had slowly started to click in Harry's mind. Family. This was supposed to be his family. He examined Persephone as though first seeing her. Her wild silver hair sticking up in all directions, her too wide shoulders on her short frame. Ron was right. She did have flat knees.

Harry must have had a thousand fantasies about long lost family. When he was younger, it had often been his parents, one or both of who had miraculously survived the car crash. Or some distant eccentric uncle who had recently learned of his existence. Or a twin who was sometimes living the good life and sometimes had it just as bad as Harry. When he discovered that he was a wizard his fantasies had grown even more extravagant. One of his relatives had survived Voldemort's purge and just did not know it was safe to come out of hiding. There was some magic spell to restore life to his parents, or his grandparents were trapped by some mystical force, just waiting for him to clap his hands three times or think of them hard enough. He had imagined aunts, uncles, cousins, third cousins, great, great grandparents so fragile they had not been able to care for an infant but would surely welcome an eleven year old capable of looking after himself. After he found Sirius, it had all seemed even more possible though less likely to make two such discoveries.

Sirius's death had forced him to face the fact he would simply have to take care of himself, but still he had occasionally dreamed that some one would return for him. The complexity and creativity of some of the enchantments that he had dreamed up to keep his family members held captive made Persephone's painting seem extremely plausible by comparison.

He had pictured his family members as old, young, plain, beautiful, scarred, and spurting tails. Though normally they were recognizable by piercing green eyes or hair that refused to lie flat in the back. Persephone's hair at least was a bit over qualified. But there had been one consistent thread to all his fantasies. All his family members had cared more about him than Professor Snape.

"I don't believe you," Ron said. "If you're Harry's aunt, what are you doing in Slytherin?"

Persephone looked at Ron as though he had just said something remarkably stupid. "I was sorted."

"I'm not sure I believe you either," Harry said. "No one's ever mentioned that my father had a sister."

"Oh, I don't care what you believe anymore!" Persephone said in a way that made Harry think she cared a great deal.

"What does all this have to do with Malfoy?" Hermione asked.

"Draco's the one who rescued me," Persephone said, sounding very proud of him for doing so.

That had definitely never occurred in any of Harry's fantasies.

"So...so that's why you hang around him. You're not actually dating Malfoy?" Ron said.

"Of course not," Persephone said, still looking rather defensive.

"And you're not having an affair with Snape?"

Persephone rolled her eyes at Ron. "If you want to call what we're having an affair, it's the most G-rated affair in history."

"What's that mean?" Ron asked.

"It means they're not having an affair," Hermione said.

"Thank goodness," Ron said. "I thought I might be sick there for a minute."

"He's not..." Persephone began. "I still like him very much. He's my best friend. He never gave up on me."

"He hates my father," Harry said.

"He...I don't think he does," she said softly. "Not really. He used to."

Harry considered her some more. She glanced at the door again now that the conversation had paused. He wanted to test her somehow, but he was having a little trouble thinking of anything. "You went to school same time as my father?"

"I was a year younger than James, but yes."

"What was he like?"

Persephone seemed slightly hesitant to answer. "He was a bully."

Harry sensed both Ron and Hermione tensing. "How dare you-" Ron began.

"No," Harry said softly. "She's right."

"How do you know?" Hermione asked.

Harry had never told either of them about what he had seen in the Pensieve. "Sirius told me," he said. This was hardly conclusive proof though. Snape could have told her any number of things about his father.

Persephone was starting to look at him curiously now. Her hostility had slid away. "What was your mother's name, Harry?"

"Lilly."

"Lilly Evans?"

Harry nodded, feeling a burst of dread that she might tell him something unpleasant about her too.

"Lucky James. She was an angel," Persephone said with a small smile. "Everybody liked her."

"He didn't," Harry said indicating the closed office door.

Persephone seemed to understand. "Yes, he did," she said with a fond expression that implied she was letting out a small secret.

"He called her a Mudblood."

She looked surprised. "When?"

"I guess he was about fifteen or so, just taken his owls."

"O-h, I remember that."

"You weren't there."

"I wasn't there when he said it, but Severus told me about it later. He felt awful about it. Apologized later. I know Lilly was angel, because she forgave him. They even went out once during the next year."

Harry did not hide the horror from his face. The words "My mother never-" started to form on his lips, but they stayed unspoken. He really did not know who his mother's friends had been or if she had had any boyfriends before his father. But the thought of her with Snape...

Persephone seemed to find his twisted expression very funny and laughed with a hand held loosely over her mouth. "Don't worry, they didn't hold hands or anything, just got some sodas at the Three Broomsticks. Severus said it wasn't really a date, but..." She laughed at Harry's expression again.

"Oh, so James finally got to Lilly." She shook her head as though settling the thought in. "You know, I really would have liked to've seen James after Lilly got a hold of him."

She turned to Ron. "Are you Arthur Weasley's son by any chance?"

"Yeah," Ron said looking apprehensive.

"Did he marry Molly Prewett?"

"Um, yeah."

She grinned. "How many siblings do you have?"

"Five brothers and Ginny."

"That makes seven right?" She laughed and clapped her hands together. "Hah! Henrietta Glump owes me eight Knuts. Could you imagine her face if I tried to collect?"

Before Ron could think of anything to say to this, the door opened. "Persephone, please come in here."

She returned to the office, and her chair followed her.

"No offense, Harry. She may be your aunt, but she's still as nutty as a nutcake."

"Don't you mean fruitcake?" Hermione said.

"I meant what said," said Ron.

"I just wish we had some way to check," Harry said. "You know like a blood test or something...Or..." He smacked his hand on his forehead. "The map."

"What do you mean 'the map'?" Hermione said.

Ron groaned. "We're complete idiots, aren't we? We just have to look at the Marauders' Map. It never lies right?"

Hermione regained some of her earlier anger. "You told me the map was destroyed!" she hissed.

Ron and Harry looked at each other guiltily. "Well, we thought you were under the Imperious Curse at the time," Ron said in a small voice.

"Oh you two are idiots!" Hermione snapped. "If I'd known we still had the map, we could have figured this all out months ago."

"Well, if you hadn't been behaving like a Knarl all term, we could have figured this out months ago," Harry snapped back at her.

Hermione opened her mouth and shut it again. She fell back in her chair and rested her forehead in her hand.

To be fair, Harry told Ron, "You weren't much better."

Ron shrugged. "Well, you should know better by now than to listen to anything I say."

"Take all the fun out of yelling at you, why don't you?" Harry said with a smirk.

"I'm usually the voice of reason aren't I?" Hermione said. "I'm usually the one telling you not to jump to conclusions and suspect Professor Snape of things? I'm supposed to be the calm, rational one, right?"

"Yes, and you've really been skiving off this semester," Harry said sternly. He smiled at her to let her know she was forgiven, and she smiled back.

The door opened again, and Snape strode past quickly, not looking at any of them. "Harry, please come in here for a moment and ask the others to wait just a bit."

Harry walked in to Dumbledore's office and had a seat in the empty chair. Dumbledore was smiling kindly, and Persephone looked very thoughtful. She gave Harry a nervous smile, and it struck him how incredibly young she was or was not. He wondered what color her hair and eyes would be if she had not been born a Silver Child.

"Harry, I'm sure this is all a little confusing," Dumbledore said. "Do you have any questions?"

"Yeah," said Harry. "How come no one's ever told me that my father had a sister?"

"A good question," Dumbledore said. "And one with very simple answer. You never asked."

"I-" Harry began, but it was true he had never asked. He had been curious, but the Dursley's had spent eleven years training him not to ask questions about his family. Harry had gotten used to not knowing. It made him sad now to realize he did not even know the names of his father's parents. Sirius had called them kind, and he had been happy to know that much. "I didn't think I had to."

"Perhaps I should have taken more initiative to help you learn your family's history," Dumbledore said. "But you seemed content, and I did not wish to burden you further. I'm afraid there were a lot of unhappy endings. Persephone was your father's only sibling. She was well loved, and many people were saddened by her disappearance. I feared breaching the subject would leave you with more questions than answers. After twenty years, it was generally assumed Persephone was dead, though Severus never believed it. He's been gloating quite a bit now that she's turned up again."

"Voldemort killed my grandparents too, didn't he?"

Dumbledore nodded. "He killed your grandfather. Your grandmother had never been a very strong woman. I think a combination of grief and poor health were responsible for her passing. Death Eaters killed your maternal grandparents. Your mother was able to rescue your Aunt Petunia from the house, but I'm afraid she wanted nothing to do with our world after that."

"I saw her," Persephone said. Her eyes were tearing. "Your Aunt Petunia. Draco took me to Little Whinging first to find you, but you'd already gone. I asked her about you...but she never told me that. How horrible."

"You do know his father's a Death Eater don't you?" Harry said hotly. "And your friend Snape, he was a Death Eater too. Didn't he tell you the sort of things they do? How could you stay in Slytherin House knowing the sort of people it produced."

"Severus never killed anyone, and Draco's not like that!"

"Is that what you think?"

She wiped her eyes with the inside of her wrist.

"If you're supposed to be my family, why'd you put off telling me so long?"

"I was nervous."

"Why were you nervous?"

"No idea," she said bitterly. "This is obviously going so well. Gah, you are just like James."

"I'm not," Harry said softly. "I've just learned not to trust Slytherins."

Harry felt the flames that had risen inside him cool. It was hard to stay angry and watch her trying not cry. He suddenly felt like a brute. She was so small. If he had been locked away in a painting for twenty years and finally reunited with his last remaining relative, he would be expecting a warmer welcome. He would want to be trusted. But then this guilt he was feeling could be part of that natural manipulation that Dumbledore had talked about. It was all very confusing.

"Harry, I may have done you a bit of a disservice," Dumbledore said. "When I applauded your choice of Gryffindor over Slytherin, I think I left you with the impression that it would have spoken ill of you if you had chosen Slytherin."

"What do you mean?" Harry asked, even more confused by this jump in the conversation.

"Perhaps it would be better to say that I did not applaud your choice of House so much as your reason for it," said Dumbledore. "Do you remember why you did not want to be in Slytherin?"

"Because I didn't want to be like Voldemort," Harry said.

"Exactly, and it is this attitude that I applauded. The Sorting Hat is rarely wrong and never lies. If it told you that you would have done well in Slytherin, I'm sure you would have, but I wanted to encourage your determination to be what Voldemort isn't. I am afraid that in the process I left you with the impression that Slytherin would have turned you into a dark wizard."

"But Slytherin has turned out more dark wizards than any other House," said Harry.

"In recent history yes," Dumbledore said. "But we do not lie, when we tell first years that each House has their own noble history and has produced many great witches and wizards. Those who chose a darker path may also have started in any of them."

"Grindelwald was a Hufflepuff," Persephone said helpfully.

Dumbledore chuckled softly. "If every student who entered Slytherin House was marked to be a dark wizard, we would send them home immediately after sorting. I'll admit I have my doubts about some of them, but there is not a single one I would give up complete hope for. Blaise Zabini for example is a very fine young man, and well worth taking the trouble to get to know."

Harry had taken classes with Blaise Zabini for six and a half years, but he was so quiet Harry forgot he was there most of the time. He had never seen much reason to get to know him.

Persephone nodded, her eyes quite dry now. "He writes poetry," she added, though her expression conveyed that she was not sure whether or not this was in his favor. Harry almost laughed.

Dumbledore stood, took the Sorting Hat from its shelf, and placed it on his desk. He tapped it gently with his wand. "I'm sorry to disturb you, but I would like you to explain yourself a bit to Mr. Potter."

The Sorting Hat stirred. The rip of a mouth opened near its brim. "Potter, you say? Never had a student need so much attention from me before. I usually only see them once, but I think this makes four times now."

"Four?" Persephone asked curiously.

"Ah, two Potters," the hat said. "Yes, I remember this one as well. Difficult to place, very difficult, both of you."

"Why was I difficult to place?" Harry asked. "I mean, why did you put me in Gryffindor?"

"Why? A very complicated question, but also very simple. I consider many factors when sorting students into their Houses. I must consider their aptitudes of course, but I also consider their preferences. It is my job to maintain balance both between the Houses and within them, and the Houses must be quartered as evenly as possible. Sometimes students fit very neatly into the founders ideals, but more often they do not.

"I have occasionally run out of purebloods to place in Slytherin House and instead placed them by their cunning. I could have easily put Mr. Zabini in Ravenclaw if you had not insisted upon Gryffindor.

"You, Potter, would have been miserable in Ravenclaw and doubted yourself in Hufflepuff. Had I put you in Slytherin you would have gone to exceptional lengths to prove yourself and your example would certainly have influenced the others, but in the end I went with your preference and that has served you equally well. I suppose I am given more to yielding to preferences of late. I have lost some faith in my original purpose and find new satisfaction in arranging some happiness. I am bound by my enchantments, but enjoy great freedom in interpreting them. Overall I think I have done well. For example, the Patil twins wished to be separated, and the Weasleys wished to stay together. I could have sorted them differently, but I think this way they are happiest."

"Hermione could have been in Ravenclaw," Harry said.

"Yes, but I sensed that she was needed elsewhere. Was I wrong?"

"No," Harry said. "You weren't wrong. What about Malfoy?"

"He means Draco Malfoy," Dumbledore clarified.

"I remember, very easy to place. He fit the desires and qualifications of Slytherin House more clearly than most."

There was some temptation for Harry to ask the hat about every student in his year, but he had a feeling this was rare treat and one he was expected not to abuse.

"Thank you," Dumbledore said and placed the hat gently back on its perch. "I'm sure you have learned by now that there are many types of bravery. You should also know that traits like ambition, cunning, and resourcefulness can be very admirable if applied in the right direction, and loyalty and hard work extremely dangerous if not well placed. Intelligence is always desirable but there are nearly as many different ways to be clever as there are to be brave, perhaps more.

"Now if you would invite your friends back in, and I would like you and Persephone to step into the hall for a moment while I speak to them."

Harry nodded, and he went to call Ron and Hermione. Persephone followed him out into the hall and shut the door behind them. They stood there for a few quiet minutes while Harry thought over what the Sorting Hat had said.

"Does that stand for Head Boy?" Persephone asked, indicating his sweater.

"Um, yeah," Harry said. "Ron's mum made it for me. She does one every year."

Persephone considered him for a moment. "I know this probably doesn't mean anything. But I am proud of you, Harry."

It was then that he believed her. He believed her a lot more later, when Ron got the map, and they checked her dot to see "Persephone Potter" written there. And even more when he found her in the photo album that Hagrid had given him. It was an old black and white picture of his father at the beach. His father could not have been older than eleven or twelve. In the background was a small girl in a one piece, building a sand castle. Her coloring not distinguishable among the other grey tones, but the wild puff of hair was quite recognizable now that he knew what to look for.

He hugged her while Ron and Hermione were still in Dumbledore's office and nestled his face into the silvery mass. It was surprisingly soft.


	13. The Music Box

**Disclaimer:** This story is based on the Harry Potter novels written by J.K. Rowling. All characters created by J.K. Rowling are owned by J.K. Rowling. The few characters created by me (i.e. Persephone, Hotchet, Kagome…) belong to me, but are available for use in other fics as long as I get credited as their creator. None of us are making any money off this and no infringement is intended.

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**Level 2.8: The Music Box**

"So, what's it like having an affair with Professor Snape?" asked Pansy over breakfast.

Draco spat out the gulp of milk he had just taken. Most of it hit the glass, but there was still quite a bit of splatter. Everyone who had been gaping at Pansy turned to stare at him.

"You're not having an affair with Professor Snape, are you Draco?" Daphne asked with a wicked grin.

"That's disgusting, Greengrass, on several levels," he said as he tried to wipe up the mess.

Pansy had pulled her hands back in time, but some of it had still landed in her eggs. She eyed them with disgust, briefly distracted, and then drew herself up again. "So, Pea, how disgusting is it?"

Persephone hardly looked flustered at all. "What are you talking about?" she said in tone that mirrored Pansy's.

"The affair you're having with Professor Snape," Pansy said. "Or are you going to deny it?"

"Of course, she's going to deny it," Draco retorted. "No one's having an affair with Snape."

"You know it would explain a few things," Daphne said thoughtfully. "He's been in an awfully good mood."

"That doesn't mean he's having an affair," Draco hissed at her.

Daphne ignored him. "Tell me how you did it, Sephi. I've been trying to get his attention for years."

"I didn't do anything," Persephone protested. "Why would you say a thing like that?"

"I have proof," Pansy said.

"You can't have proof, because we haven't done anything."

Pansy raised her eyebrow. "So it's _we _now?"

"You're crossing a line, Pansy," Draco said warningly.

"I'm not crossing any lines. She has."

"I have not!"

"Do you think we're all stupid?" Pansy said. "Everyone knows you've been spending a lot of time alone in Snape's office."

"That's none of your business," Persephone snapped. "But if you must know, I'm taking remedial Potions!"

"Remedial Potions?" Pansy repeated, looking completely unconvinced. "In an advanced class?"

"I got in over my head," Persephone said with a slight tremble in her voice.

"Well, that's for certain."

"Pansy, are you really sure about this?" Indigo asked. "It's just. This is Persephone. She's not..."

"She's not really the seducing type," Alice said.

Crabbe came to his Potion Master's defense. "And Professor Snape isn't like that. I mean, he took points from Daphne for wearing her skirt too short."

"Ah, but that means he noticed," Daphne said. She smiled suggestively, but then drew her lips into a pout. "Still, I was rather hoping he'd give me detention."

"Daphne, you do know you come off sounding like a slut don't you?" Pansy said coolly.

"I'm not a slut," Daphne said sharply. Draco had never understood why Daphne was so averse to that particular term, when everything else she did and said seemed to point to that conclusion, but he knew it would put her into an extremely bad mood for the rest of the day if not the rest of the week.

Pansy knew this better than anyone, and generally avoided it, unless she really wanted to put Daphne in her place. Which meant she wanted to build into her proof uninterrupted. "No, of course you're not," Pansy said soothingly, as though she had forgotten the word's effect. "Pea's our resident slut, isn't she?"

Persephone stared back at Pansy, stunned by her audacity. Her hands were trembling slightly, and Draco sensed she might start crying in a minute.

"Pansy, can I talk to you for a moment?" Draco asked through barely unclenched teeth and stood.

"Of course, Draco," Pansy said in an overly polite way. She followed him out into the entrance hall.

Draco led her to a deserted hall and the same broom closet where he had taken Persephone. Pansy eyed the broom closet warily but was intrigued enough that she obeyed Draco's hurried summons to step inside. She stood with her arms crossed and eyebrow raised. She was giving off a distinct air of impenetrable resolve.

Draco took a deep breath and tried to sound as calm and rational as he could. "Pansy, do you understand how serious this is? This goes way past normal gossip. You're accusing Professor Snape, Head of Slytherin House, of having an affair with an underage student. Do you understand what could happen?"

"Sure," Pansy said. "The little tramp would get kicked out of school, and he could lose his position."

"I don't mean to them," Draco said. "I mean to you."

"Me?"

"You make those sort of accusations, and the school administration will not dismiss it as simple gossip. Snape's likely to bring you up on charges of slander. You're of age now, so you'll get the full weight of the law."

"The law?" Pansy echoed incredulously. "I haven't done anything wrong! They have!"

"Come on, Pansy," Draco said with a derisive snort. "You don't honestly believe Persephone and Professor Snape-"

"But I have proof!" Pansy whined.

"What proof?" Draco said. "A student visiting a teacher's office is hardly proof of an affair. Persephone explained-"

"There's also the letters!"

Draco paused. "What letters?"

"All those letters from 'Oliver'. Professor Snape's been writing them," she announced triumphantly. "I knew the handwriting seemed familiar, but I didn't recognize it until Snape handed back our proposals yesterday. I know where Persephone keeps them. I can prove it's the same writing."

Draco leaned back against the door, ensuring that Pansy would not leave the room until he had managed to guarantee her silence.

"Draco, can't you understand what kind of girl she is?" Pansy said with a trace of compassion. "I know it doesn't make any sense that she would take Snape over you," (Draco looked up sharply.) "but that just shows there's something wrong with her, not you. It doesn't make any sense for you to keep defending her when she's completely unfaithful."

Draco was tempted to laugh but decided to try a different tactic. "Pansy, you have it all wrong."

"Draco, I understand that you want to give her the benefit of the doubt, but this isn't-"

"No, Pansy, you really, really have it all wrong." He gave her a gentle smile but let her see the weariness in his eyes. "I know exactly what Persephone has been doing in Snape's office."

Pansy hesitated. "You do?"

"Yes, and you're completely right about her not taking Remedial Potions."

Pansy looked more confused than before but was somewhat mollified. "Are you saying, you knew all along?"

Draco nodded somberly. "Did Persephone tell you what killed her parents?"

Pansy shook her head. "She refused to talk about it."

Draco paused for dramatic effect. "Pansy, have you ever read Hogwarts: Rules and Regulations?"

"No."

"Well, I have and-"

"You've read Hogwarts: Rules and Regulations?"

"Yes," he said as if there was nothing unusual about this.

Pansy goggled at him. "Draco, it has to be a thousand pages long."

"One thousand and fifty-seven, but we're getting off topic. According to Hogwarts: Rule and Regulations, one of the lesser known duties of the Head of House is to act as counsel to students who have been through severely traumatic experiences."

"So?"

Draco hesitated. "Can I trust you, Pansy?"

She visibly softened. "Of course you can trust me, Draco. What is it?"

"The reason I missed the train this year, the real reason..." Pansy stepped in closer. "I was bringing Persephone to school. We could have let some one from the Ministry fetch her, but it seemed rather cold considering what she had been through."

"What do you mean?" Pansy asked.

Draco pinched the sides of his nose near his tear ducts and blinked a few times. Pansy knew he did not cry in front of people. "There's a group of Muggles in Canada who've started up the witch hunts again. You know how Persephone sticks out. They surrounded her home...it's not like in the old days where they tie you to a stake and a simple Flame Freezing Charm will get you out of trouble. They've got nasty weapons now, the Muggles, guns and bombs and stuff. Persephone is too young to Apparate and the Muggles blew up their fireplace so the Floo was cut off. Her parents tried to fight them off, but they weren't prepared, didn't know enough hexes. The Aurors got there too late. She watched her parents die first, and the Muggles got her next, left her bleeding and close to death. One of the Aurors found her and got her to the Healers on time, but it was too late for the rest of the family. Then the Muggles went and burned her home to the ground. Mother didn't want me to go fetch her. She was afraid of the witch hunters, but I had too, Pansy. I couldn't leave her there."

Pansy looked absolutely horrified, which had been the whole idea.

"Anyway," Draco said grimly. "That's what she's being doing in Snape's office. He's sort of been talking her through it."

Pansy was horrified, but not easily convinced. "But she seems so happy."

"Denial," Draco said expertly. "She's really rather screwed up. You should have seen her on the way back, completely unstable. Laughing hysterically one minute, sobbing violently the next. Snape's supposed to be teaching her some coping techniques. I think she spends most of her time in there sobbing. It's sort of her safe place. She's not a public griever."

Pansy still looked uncertain. "But…the letters."

"It's one of the techniques," Draco said. "Gives her a safe little fantasy world to act out in. The illusion of still being connected to someone from home. I don't know, maybe Snape's enjoying writing them a bit more than he should. But she enjoys them so much, I'd hate to tell him to stop. She's so fragile right now."

"Fragile?" Pansy said, with her eyebrows raised.

"Surely, you've noticed she's a little off," Draco said.

"Well, yes, but-"

"I mean yes, she acts happy, but it's a little too happy you know. Rather manic. Kind of bounces between being hyper focused and easily distracted. She keeps herself wrapped up in as many clubs and activities as she can so she won't have to think about what happened. But well, you saw how she freaked out in the common room."

"Should she really be in school if she's that messed up?" Pansy asked.

"I don't know," Draco sighed. "She can't focus on her school work. Her grades are atrocious, but Professor Snape thinks it's important that she stays busy.

"He can't watch her all the time, so I've been trying to help, but it's just too much for me sometimes." He gazed into Pansy's brown eyes, willing his own to become watery with unshed tears. He slumped against the doorframe so that he was looking up at her. "I mean my work load has been so overwhelming this year, and doing hers too...I know I've been snapping at everyone. I don't mean to. I'm just under all this pressure. And I've worked so hard, and I know father's disappointed that I didn't make Head Boy. I really just want him to be proud of me." By the last sentence he was whimpering.

"Oh Draco, I know he is," Pansy assured him.

"And I know you all hate me, now too," Draco added miserably. "I've just been so distracted."

"Oh, no, Draco, everyone still loves you very much," Pansy soothed. "We're just worried. We didn't know what was going on with you, but when everyone understands."

"No!" Draco cried sharply and stood up. "No, Pansy, this has to stay between you and me. I really shouldn't have told you, but I had to talk to somebody."

"But-" Pansy began.

Draco took her jaw in his hand and stroked her cheek gently with his thumb. "I wouldn't ask you if it wasn't important."

Pansy placed her own hand over his. "But, Draco…"

She trailed off as he closed the distance between them even more. He gently touched his forehead to hers. "Please, love," he said. "For me?"

He could feel Pansy melt. Her soft breath grazed his chin as she murmured, "Alright, for you."

"You didn't really think I was dating Persephone, did you?" he asked with mild amusement.

"You're not?"

"No, she's more like a little sister. Just someone who needs protection." Draco ran his fingertips down Pansy's neck, and she closed her eyes. "How could I even think about dating another girl with someone like you around?"

o

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o

They returned to the Slytherin table a few minutes later. Pansy with a satisfied expression, and Draco feeling rather defeated and disgusted with himself. The other Slytherins stopped their conversation as they approached. "I'm sorry, Persephone," Pansy said as she sat back down. "I saw something and jumped to conclusions. It seems I was wrong, and I hope you'll accept my apology."

Persephone gave Draco a quick, anxious glance. "Of course," she said. "We all make mistakes." Pansy smiled at her, and Persephone gave her a tight smile in return.

Daphne looked rather disappointed. "What was it you saw?" she asked Pansy.

"Never mind," Pansy said, casting her own quick glance at Draco. Draco allowed himself a small smile to show that he appreciated her silence.

o

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"What did you say to her?" Persephone whispered later, when they had wedged themselves into a remote corner of the library. Draco was sure the question had been burning behind her lips since breakfast.

"I told her you'd been through a traumatic experience, and Snape's talking you through it."

"Oh," Persephone said, looking as though she had expected something more elaborate. "Well, I suppose that's true." Draco raised his eyebrows questioningly. "Well, I have been through a traumatic experience, haven't I?"

"And all you do in his office is talk?"

"All we do _is_ talk," Persephone said with a light scowl.

Draco looked back at her uncertainly. "You're telling me that you spend hours, alone, behind closed doors, and all you do is talk."

"Yes." Persephone opened her textbook, as though she had lost interest in the conversation. "What did you think we did?"

"I was trying not to think about it," Draco said, his voice still very low. "But I figured you were snogging or something."

"Sno-" Persephone looked at Draco incredulously. "I've never kissed Severus," she whispered.

He was inclined to believe her, but only because he knew how awkwardly she lied. It filled him simultaneously with relief and disappointment. He did not like thinking he had put on that performance for Pansy for nothing. "Never?" repeated Draco. "Not even when you—well, he—was young. Not even on the cheek?" Persephone shook her head as though the thought had never occurred to her. "Why not?"

"We were just friends," she said, turning her face away to pull a quill out of her bag, though he caught the pink on her cheeks. "And it would be awkward now. I don't know if he likes me that way, anyway." Draco gave her a completely unconvinced look that made her blush even more. "Even if he does, it's not that simple to kiss someone."

"Sure it is. You just pucker your lips and kiss, one step process really." Draco studied the uncertainty in her expression and smirked. "Are you trying to tell me you've never kissed anyone?"

"No…I mean I've kissed Mama and Papa," she said. "But it's not the same as kissing a boy."

"You kissed me," Draco pointed out.

"That was different," she insisted. "It was on the cheek, and I wasn't worried about whether or not you liked it."

Draco laughed. "I really don't think it's an issue of whether he'd like it. He's clearly taken with you."

Persephone played with her quill. "But how do you know that for sure?"

"Way he looks at you," Draco said, which was a bit of an over simplification. Severus Snape was not given to lovelorn staring. He could mask his face in layers and did so to the point it was habit. He gave nothing away with his eyes, but there had been a few times when Draco had seen him meet Persephone in the hall and watched the small smile creep across his Potion Master's face. It was a smile devoid of irony or malice and seemed alien to Snape's features, yet it softened them for a brief moment as though the man might melt away and show the boy underneath. "Besides, he waited for you, didn't he?"

Persephone's quill had become still, and she looked very thoughtful.

Draco pointed a finger at her warningly. "That does not mean you shouldn't be careful. Pansy wasn't making idle threats. She recognized Oliver's handwriting, which means it's only a matter of time before someone else does. You have to tell him to stop sending you letters."

"There's nothing bad in the letters," Persephone protested.

"It will still look bad," Draco said. "You don't want Snape to lose his job do you?" Persephone shook her head. "Then be a good girl and make an effort to stay on Pansy's good side."

"I'm not worried about Pansy," said Persephone huffily.

"You should be," Draco said. "I've watched her destroy girls before. Ask one of the Hufflepuffs about Violet Edger if you don't believe me."

Persephone frowned thoughtfully. "I don't know Violet Edger."

"You wouldn't. She didn't come back after Christmas break last year."

o

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o

Draco did his best to be attentive to Pansy over the next few days. He sat a little closer to her than usual in Potions class. He invited her to join his study sessions with Persephone. The two girls acted as though the incident had been pushed out of their minds, which did not completely stop rumors from floating, but it slowed them considerably.

Daphne was still in a foul mood, but Draco thought the more at odds she was with Pansy the better.

Draco had mixed feelings about whether he actually liked sharing the study sessions with Pansy. It was nice to have someone else to keep Persephone on task, and Pansy did have a sharp eye for problems with his Potions proposal. Still, he felt as though he had to guard his conversations even more than before, which meant he did very little talking about the things he actually wanted to discuss. Pansy on the other hand had no reservations about speaking her mind and subjected them to her opinion on all manner of things.

"Pansy, why don't you come to the Forum?" said Persephone. "You've got so much to contribute."

Pansy shrugged eloquently. "I'm sorry, Persephone, I just think your Forum is too abstract. Everything you discuss is so distant and not really material to a student's daily life. I think it would be more practical if you discussed local issues, things more relevant to life at Hogwarts."

Draco buried himself more deeply in his Charms text.

"Well, what sort of things?" Persephone asked sounding genuinely interested.

"I don't know," Pansy said airily. "Perhaps you could work on a new school song. The one we have now is dreadful."

"Oh! That's a splendid idea!" Persephone said with such enthusiasm that Pansy looked surprised and Madam Pince shushed them. "No, I really like it," she continued in a whisper. "I wanted the forum to have a really broad range from the beginning. It'll be good to discuss a school issue, and I think a lot of people will be really interested."

"Everyone could submit lyrics," Pansy said eagerly. "And we could vote on the best ones."

"That's perfect," Persephone agreed. "Will you come to the meeting, then? It's your idea after all."

Pansy hesitated. "Well, alright then. I'll come."

Persephone looked at Draco hopefully as well, but he excused himself from the meeting for Quidditch practice. The first Slytherin game of the season was that coming weekend.

o

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o

Draco had met the new Ravenclaw seeker, Xavier Ekin, in the hall two days before match. Draco had at least two heads height on the boy, which did not seem to intimidate Ekin in the least. "Looking forward to the match Saturday. You ought to be a challenge," he said in very friendly way. Draco snorted dismissively in response, which did nothing to dampen Ekin's bright grin. Draco could not help thinking about how light he looked. _He's built like a seeker._

Draco could not help but be heartened however when the Slytherin girls came to cheer on their last practice. He managed to catch the snitch in five minutes on his first try.

When Saturday rolled around, the crowd gathered around the pitch in the cool air, chanting and clapping and booing in turn. Draco could not help the corners of his mouth tugging into a small smile.

A breathless Pansy ran up to him just outside the changing rooms. "Draco, Draco! Take this," she said, handing him a white silk handkerchief. "For luck," she said, blushing a bit.

He grinned at her. "Bit old fashion isn't it?"

Her face fell. "You think it's stupid," she said, reaching for the handkerchief.

"No," Draco said, whipping it out of her reach. "I'll wear it. For luck." He tucked the fabric into his uniform. Pansy beamed at him and ran back to the stands.

"Let's move out," Weatherby shouted. The Slytherin team followed him to the pitch where they mounted their brooms and circled once in formation. The Ravenclaws entered next and made their easy way to the starting marks. Except for Ekin, who shot into the air in a sharp high loop that made some in the crowd gasp and started the Ravenclaws chanting his name. Draco glared at the upstart who was riding a Firebolt and wearing an eager smile.

Draco scanned the crowd. He spotted Hermione who was cheering and talking excitedly to Weasley about something. Draco could not make out whom she was cheering for, but he could guess. Then his eyes found Pansy, who was also cheering and helping to hold up a banner with his name on it.

"Hey, Malfoy, pay attention," Enid called from beside him. Draco spared her an annoyed glance before he turned his eyes on Madam Hooch.

"Wait for the Quaffle," Hooch warned the anxious looking Ekin, before releasing the Snitch. Draco followed the tiny golden ball with his eyes, until it was completely out of view. The Quaffle jumped into the air, and Ekin shot off so quickly Draco was certain he had already spotted the Snitch. Draco flattened himself to his broom and followed Ekin through every whip and turn, hoping to get a hint of gold. But, however much he strained his eyes, he could not see it. It took him a full minute to realize there was nothing to see. Ekin was just flying randomly in hopes of coming across the Snitch.

With a surge of disgust, Draco broke off his chase and slowed his broom. His eyes were dried out from the constant wind of fast flight, and he blinked in an attempt to moisten them again.

"And Chesann Blampied scores the second goal for the Slytherin team!" Dennis Creevey announced. His high voice sounding even more excited than usual. Draco blinked a little more rapidly. _Second goal?_ They were only a minute into the game. The Slytherins supporters began chanting Chesann's name. "Slytherins in possession of the Quaffle. Malfoy appears to be taking a break."

Draco shot a nasty look in Creevey's direction, before urging his broom forward once again. It soon became evident that he would not be catching the Snitch in five minutes this time. The golden ball was being coy.

Ekin did not seem to mind the absence of the Snitch. He was whizzing and juking around the field so fast that Draco thought he might miss the Snitch if it flew right in front of him.

This was just as well. By ten minutes in, the score stood eighty to zero in the Slytherins' favor. The Ravenclaws seemed to have abandoned all attempts to score and were focusing all their efforts on running interference against the Slytherin Chasers. This did slow Chesann and her cousins down a bit but not enough to keep them from scoring three more goals.

Draco thought he heard someone mutter his name and turned to look at Captain Weatherby, who had the lonely job of guarding the Slytherin goal. Without moving his head, Weatherby flicked his eyes twice to a place behind Draco. It took him half a second to get the message, but he turned and shot in the direction Jonathan had indicated. He spotted the Snitch a moment before Ekin, but Ekin was closer. The Ravenclaw seeker jerked in a tight turn that inspired a collective gasp from the crowd. Draco pushed his Timebender to its maximum speed, but it was too late. He was still a couple meters away when Ekin's hand closed around the Snitch.

Draco felt a sharp soundless moan rise up in his chest, and Dennis Creevey confirmed what he had just seen. "And Xavier Ekin catches the Snitch! One hundred and twenty points to one hundred and fifty! Ravenclaw wins!" There was a loud cheer at this sudden reversal, but the world suddenly became very quiet for Draco. He set down and was vaguely aware of his teammates dropping to the ground around him. The Ravenclaws had hoisted Ekin up on their shoulders.

The Slytherins were quiet at first, each chewing on their own disappointment. Draco walked off the pitch and heard footsteps run to catch up with him. "Rotten luck," Jonathan said, putting his hand on Draco's shoulder. "Bloody Snitch nearly flew up his nose. Good effort though." In a different voice he said, "Really dull game on my end! Did you see Chess score? Twelve goals in under twenty minutes! The other Keeper didn't know what had hit him!" He gave Draco's shoulder a last pat and fell back to spread words of cheer to the rest of the team. "It's only thirty points. They got lucky. We'll get the Snitch next time and make it up. You all were bloody fantastic! Hufflepuff won't stand a chance!"

Draco walked a little faster and collapsed onto the bench near the changing rooms. The other players flashed him sympathetic grins as they passed. Chesann had clearly been cheered up by Jonathan's praise, though Draco knew what she was thinking…just a few more goals and they could have been ahead….or _if Draco had just caught the Snitch_…

Pansy and the seventh year girls descended on the bench. "Nasty luck," Millicent said bolsteringly. She had her face painted green with silver S's on her cheeks.

Pansy put a hand on Draco's back consolingly. Draco had an urge to chuck his broom, but he feared he might damage the Timebender so he just jerked it angrily in the air. "It couldn't have been helped," Pansy said. "He was sitting right on top of it."

"We didn't lose by much," Alice said in bland sort of tone, as though this was the best anyone could say about the matter.

"Chesann was fantastic though, wasn't she?" squealed Indigo.

"Where's Gregory?" Millicent asked. "I want to congratulate him."

Daphne made a face, which, thankfully, Millicent did not see. Draco made a half-hearted gesture towards the changing rooms. Millicent left to call him out, and the other girls stood around awkwardly for a moment until Pansy waved them away. Draco remembered Pansy's handkerchief. He pulled it out and handed it back to her. "Apparently, I needed more than luck."

Pansy looked sadly at her handkerchief, before tucking it away. "Don't get down on yourself, Draco. You'll make it up next game." Draco appreciated everyone's optimism, but he could not share it.

o

* * *

o

He tried to resign later, but Jonathan feigned deafness until Draco gave up on that too. He sunk into his favorite spot on the leather couch and listened to the girls discuss lyrics for the new school song.

"Hogwarts, Hogwarts, our home away from home," Indigo sang, her singing voice as light and airy as her speaking voice. "I'd really like to continue this, but how to finish the song?"

The other girls laughed. Daphne pointed her wand at her dictation quill to make some adjustment. Pansy shrugged helplessly at Indigo's inquiring glance.

"I'm ruddy horrid at lyrics," Alice confessed. "I can hardly write a clear essay. If I had to do it in rhyme, I think my head would explode."

"It doesn't have to be in rhyme, does it?" asked Indigo.

"No," Pansy said. "But it should have some rhythm at least. It ought be catchy."

"Hogwarts, Hogwarts your uniforms are drab," Daphne sang with flourishing hand guestures. "Your halls are cold and drafty, and the meals are kind of bad. Your lessons uninspiring, the homework's quite a pain, but we might have gone to Durmstrang, so we ought not to complain." The girls howled even more loudly this time, and Draco could not help chuckling.

"Please be serious, Daphne," Pansy said, getting her giggles under control. "Draco, why don't you come up with something? You're clever with lyrics."

"I don't think so," he said, but the girls pleaded so he sighed and gave it a halfhearted try. He waved his hand like a lazy conductor but did not try to sing. "Oh, Hallowed Halls of Hogwarts." Alice and Daphne giggled.

"What does 'hallowed' mean anyway?" Pansy asked.

Draco put a finger to his lip in a thoughtful gesture. "You know, I haven't any idea, but I thought it sounded good."

"It's got some nice assonance," said Daphne.

"But shouldn't it mean something?" Indigo said. "Particularly in a something short like a song. Shouldn't every word have meaning?"

Draco shrugged.

o

* * *

o

Persephone who was so encouraging in every other area hardly seemed to think losing a Quidditch match was worth her bother. "Well, it's just Quidditch," she said on the subject. "I think it's silly Jonathan won't let you leave the team, if that's what you want."

"Thanks," Draco said sarcastically.

"So how are things going with Granger?" asked Persephone.

"Lousy," said Draco. "I've tried being civil, but she's still not talking to me because you won't talk to Harry."

"Oh, I've given up," Persephone said. "He doesn't need me. And what have we really got to connect us anyway? Blood? That's not what makes a family. I don't think he really needs to know about me. It would just confuse him at this point."

"Glad to know I've been wasting my time," Draco muttered hotly.

"It's not a waste," Persephone insisted. "I don't know, maybe I will tell him eventually. I just don't want you to be waiting on me. If you want to get through to Granger, it may be time to take a slightly more active approach. Try to understand the things she cares about. Maybe that will help you talk to her."

"Books and house-elves?" Draco said. "How's that supposed to help?"

Persephone shrugged. "I've got to get to class." She took off in the direction of another corridor but stopped a few steps off and turned back around. "Oh, and Professor Snape wants you to come by his office when you have a moment."

"What for?" Draco asked, but Persephone just shrugged again.

o

* * *

o

Professor Snape was grading papers at his desk when Draco knocked on his office door. "Come in."

"You asked for me, sir?" Draco said, entering cautiously. Snape looked up and the corners of his mouth twitched briefly into what might have been a smile. He gestured to the chair in front of his desk. Draco left the office door cracked open and took a seat, wondering if Snape was planning to interrogate him again.

Snape flicked his wand lazily and the door shut with a light but deafening clap. "The Americans are starting a Wizarding college, and I've been asked to recommend someone for their Potions program. Tuition will be provided, and there might be an assistant position to the professor that would cover living expenses. Do you think you would be interested?"

"You'd recommend me?" said Draco.

"You're third in class rank, and you have exemplary marks in Potions," said Professor Snape. "Besides it would be out of the country, and I thought that might interest you."

Draco understood what Snape was offering. A chance to escape and still keep up appearances. For a long minute, he considered taking it. But, it would mean another year like this one. Another year of guarding his words, making excuses to his parents, and spending every minute in dread. A new school probably would not provide all the old protections that Hogwarts did.

The alternative was to choose a life on the run, try to hide himself in a sea of Muggles or some forgotten forest. It was not an appealing life, but he thought he might have more of a chance running than sitting in a potions lab waiting for the Dark Lord to decide he was too much of a liability.

"No," Draco said, getting to his feet. "I appreciate the offer, but I think I'm going to travel after I leave Hogwarts."

Snape considered Draco for a moment and then stood as well. "There are other options," he said carefully.

Draco had a feeling he knew what Snape was going to propose and shook his head. "Not for me," he said and slipped out of Snape's office before he could object.

o

* * *

o

Draco sat down to breakfast between Crabbe and Blaise, still mystified as to what magic had called Zabini back from his self imposed exile and far too hungry to care. He made a large pile of eggs on his plate and hedged them with bread and bacon.

"Not hungry are you?" Pansy asked innocently.

"Ravenous," Draco said around his mouthful of eggs.

"You shouldn't talk with your mouth full," Indigo said. Draco and Pansy both looked at her. "Well, you shouldn't," she said in a smaller voice. "You could choke."

Draco could not think of anything to say to that so he turned back to his plate and chewed. Blaise smirked, and Pansy turned back to her own plate.

"I saw that Persephone's staying for Christmas," said Daphne.

"Really?" Pansy said. "I thought you might invite her to the manor, Draco."

"Oh, Draco's staying too," Daphne answered for him. "At least I saw your name on the list when I signed up?" She cast him a curious glance from beneath her brown crinkles.

Pansy scowled. "You're staying for Christmas?" Draco stuffed some bread into his mouth and nodded. "But your poor mother. That will leave her all alone," Pansy said disapprovingly though Draco doubted that was what really concerned her.

Draco shook his head. He finished chewing and swallowed before he spoke. "She won't be alone. She'll be visiting relatives or have relatives visiting or something like that."

Pansy's scowl did not relax, but she turned it on Daphne. "Why are you staying?"

"Don't want to go home," Daphne said as though there was nothing more to the matter, and considering Daphne, there may not have been.

"I'm looking forward to Christmas," Indigo said. "We're going to Lisbon."

"Ireland again," Alice groaned.

"Why are you staying?" Crabbe asked Draco, his brows furrowed to mirror Pansy's.

"I wanted to work on that project for Advanced Potions," Draco said.

"That's absurd," Pansy said. "The labs will be closed."

"Professor Snape will be here," Draco said. "I'll get him to let me in."

Pansy's scowl shifted into a thoughtful frown. "Maybe I should stay too," she said slowly.

"Oh, no, Pansy, you can't," Daphne said seriously. "Rose would be heartbroken."

Pansy looked torn, but Draco knew Daphne had used the one argument that would not fail to sway her.

"It'll be boring stuck here," Draco said helpfully. "I'll spend all my time in the lab or reading in my room."

"You sure you don't want us to stay with you?" Crabbe asked, looking anxious. Goyle was watching Draco intently past Crabbe's shoulder.

"No," Draco said lightly. "Go home, enjoy your holiday." For a moment, Draco thought Crabbe was going to say something else, but he didn't. Draco took another stab at his breakfast. "Out of curiosity, how do you get into the kitchens?" he asked as casually as he could.

"You just tickle the pear," said Goyle.

"There's a painting of a bowl of fruit just down the stairs from the entry hall," Crabbe clarified. "You want us to show you?"

"No," said Draco. "I think I can figure it out." Crabbe looked a little disappointed. "Don't want to go now anyway," Draco added.

Pansy was still interrogating Daphne. "Surely you're not planning to spend the entire holiday doing Potions?"

"What a horrid thought," said Daphne taking the scone for which Zabini had been reaching. "Lots of lounging and vapid girl talk, I hope. Someone's got to keep Persephone company while Draco turns into a swot."

"I'm not a swot," Draco protested.

Daphne brushed her hair away from her face. "Spending the holidays doing homework? Swotty McSwottswott."

Draco was about to retort, when a change came over Pansy's face. Her uncertain frown had melted into cool expression aimed just past Draco's shoulder. He only had time to be curious when a familiar voice barked his name.

"Malfoy!"

Draco looked longingly at his half eaten breakfast, let out a brief sigh, and turned around. "Potter?"

"What were you doing at my house?" Harry demanded.

Draco just stared at Harry for a moment. He did not dare look at anyone else. He considered denying it, but Potter was certainly not going to play along. Why did he have to do this here, with everyone watching? "Looking for you, obviously," Draco said evenly. He felt the surprise and curiosity radiating from the other Slytherins but tried not to think about it.

"I wasn't there," said Harry with an air of challenge.

"And thus my brilliant plans were foiled," Draco drawled. He was so tired of this.

Potter looked like he wanted to hit him but was resisting. "Why were you looking for me?"

Draco smirked. _Because I found your supposedly dead aunt in a painting in my attic. _This would be hard enough to explain without the audience. On the far side of the room, Weasley and Granger, along with a handful of other Gryffindors, had stood for a better view, and heads were turning and the Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff tables. "You wouldn't believe me if I told you."

"Tell me anyway," Potter said stiffly. He seemed oblivious to all eyes.

Was this the purported Gryffindor bravery shining through? Draco wondered. Reckless, stupid, irritating lack of discretion. How freeing it must be to speak so openly. It would be a relief to just have the story out, but he had promised Persephone.

Draco shrugged and flicked his eyes about the Great Hall trying to remind Potter that they were being watched. "It doesn't matter anymore. You weren't there. I left." _Please, let's talk about this later, corner me in some abandon hall or something._

"You weren't alone," Harry said.

_Or just continue to press the issue now in full public view. I don't mind really._ Not that he could blame Harry. This mess was mostly Persephone's fault. What had he promised her exactly? Draco ran his finger along his bottom lip. He could not remember. He just had this vague sense that he was supposed to keep her secrets, but he had not actually promised not to tell.

He was so tired of this. If Potter wanted everything out in the open, why not put everything out in the open. "No, I had your aunt for company," Draco said at last. He smirked a bit as he pictured Potter looking at him confused and dumbfounded.

This was not what happened however.

Harry had grabbed Draco by the collar and yanked him up so that he was half dangling over his seat, before Draco realized he was moving. "If you hurt her…" Potter began. He trailed off unable to think of an appropriate threat or unwilling to voice it. Draco was bewildered. Had Persephone told Potter what had happened? Surely not, she had not even come to breakfast, and if she had, why was Potter so angry at him.

Then, realization dawned. Harry Potter was talking about his other aunt. The one who clearly did not like him and wanted nothing to do with wizards. "Are you worried about those Muggles?" Draco asked. Potter's scowl deepened, maybe he thought he had just given some secret away. "Relax, Potter, I didn't touch them."

"You put a spell on Aunt Petunia," Potter hissed quietly.

"No, I didn't," Draco said softly, fixing his eyes on Harry's, willing him to see that he was being honest.

Potter seemed uncertain. He released Draco's collar and shoved him back into his seat. He brought his face close to Draco's and breathed so quietly Draco would have had to strain to hear if he was not already hyperaware of the moment. "If I hear differently. If you or your friends enter my house again, you're dead. Understand?"

It is not an uncommon thing for boys to threaten to kill each other. In most cases, it's a friendly exchange or a flippant one. Potter, however, did not look friendly or flippant. It was…enlightening, for lack of better term, to think Potter was capable of such dark ideas and to see him so protective of the Muggle family he claimed to despise.

The voice of Professor McGonagall cut into the sudden silence. "What's going on here?"

"Nothing, Professor," said Draco, his eyes flicked to her only momentarily before returning to Potter's. "Just a little misunderstanding." Harry broke away from Draco's gaze.

"Go back to your seat, Potter," McGonagall ordered. Potter shot Draco one last look before he turned away. McGonagall lingered a while longer. Draco had a feeling she was trying to decide if she should give detention or dock points. After all, the boys had not really been fighting. There had been no yelling or blows exchanged. She settled for giving Draco a warning glance before stalking back to the teachers' table. Draco would rather that she had stayed a bit longer. Anything to delay that awful moment when he would have to face his classmates.

But there was no delaying, and his breakfast was getting cold.

"You went to Potter's house?" echoed Millicent incredulously.

"Why?" Pansy asked. Curiosity was burning in the eyes of everyone around them.

"I can't tell," Draco said simply and stubbornly went back to eating his breakfast.

"Was…was it something for Him?" Pansy asked breathily. Draco did not have to ask who "Him" was.

Daphne took a sudden interest in the sugar bowl further down the table past Millicent, but everyone else was watching Draco intently. "If it was," Draco said slowly and softly. "I couldn't tell you, now could I?"

The other seventh years did not ask any more questions, but they all looked at him differently after that.

o

* * *

o

Draco cleaned out his trunk that evening for a couple of reasons. The first being that it needed it, and the second because he had a tendency to be a bit snappy when he was cleaning. His dorm mates had learned to avoid him when he was on one of his binges, and he did not want Crabbe and Goyle to ask him about what happened at breakfast. As he was repacking his underwear, his hand fell across an unopened envelope. He stared at it for a minute, unsure why it was there, before he remembered he had never opened the letter his mother had sent him after _The Quibbler_ article.

He had not heard from his mother since Halloween. Draco sat back on the stone floor and opened the letter.

Before he read, he knew the note was unusual. His mother's handwriting was generally graceful and pristine, the envy of any calligrapher. This letter was still in his mother's hand, but it did not have its usual grace. The words were slanted and slightly uneven, as though she had written it very quickly. The ink blotted in some spots as though the pen had not been held far enough off the paper between letters.

_Dearest Draco,_

_Naturally I don't believe the rubbish printed on page 17 of this magazine. However, you should keep in mind that this is the sort of thing that can happen when you do not watch your actions and how they appear._

_Also, my darling, I heard that there was a new girl at school with you. I don't know if you are familiar with the term Silver Child, but I know you are familiar with Veela. A Silver Child looks more normal, but I went to school with one. They have the ability to persuade which uses a magic beyond normal girlish charms. I am not saying you are necessarily in danger, but please be careful my beloved Draco. Do not trust too easily. Make sure every thought is your own._

_It would ease my mind greatly, if you could write and tell me why you missed your train._

_~N.M._

Draco reread the letter. Obviously she meant Persephone when she spoke of a Silver Child, but Persephone could not affect minds. Could she? He read the second paragraph over again. Unanswered questions and half-formed and forgotten suspicions returned in full force to the forefront of his mind. How many times in the past months had he gotten the feeling that something was not right and then pushed it aside? _Make sure every thought is your own._

He got to his feet clasping the letter and hurried down to the common room. Persephone was sitting on the leather couch with Laurel and Chesann across from her and what might have been Arithmancy notes spread out on the coffee table between them. Chesann nudged Persephone, and she twisted around to look at him.

"Is this true?" Draco demanded, thrusting the letter at her. "Have you been messing with my head?"

Persephone's smile died as she took the letter from him and read it over. She looked up at Draco and then at the two sixth year girls. "Chess, do you think we could finish this later?" Persephone said. Laurel seemed inclined to linger, but Chesann gathered up their notes and dragged her off.

"This was why mother was so worried about me leaving the Quidditch team, because you don't like Quidditch," Draco said, his voice still felt hot.

"But you didn't leave," said Persephone.

"But I thought about it," Draco countered. "Was that because of you?" He had gotten used to her silver hair and eyes, but they struck him as strange and unnatural now.

"I can't affect minds," Persephone said, but there was something in her voice that left Draco unconvinced.

Draco leaned over the back couch, digging his fingers into the leather, and said in a low voice. "You made me bring you here."

"I didn't make you do anything," Persephone protested, making a clear effort to keep her voice down. "That was your idea."

"Was it?"

"Yes!"

Draco narrowed his eyes, still unconvinced. "Why is it the more time I spend with you, listening to you, the more I want you around? The more I trust you? The more I tell you things I shouldn't?"

"Isn't that how friendships normally go?" she asked. Her silver eyes searched his face.

There was a ring of truth to this that cooled him, but… "It's not just me. I've watched you do it to other people. They relax around you, say things they wouldn't normally. It's unnatural." He realized he had managed to cut her with the last word. The objection that had been forming on her lips died. She pressed them together, and her silver eyes began to glimmer with unshed tears.

He straightened up, annoyed with her and himself. This was exactly what his mother wanted of course, to divide them. He snorted in a bemused sort of way. If one person was not trying to control him, it was another. "I'm so tired of this. Forget it," he said. He swung his legs over the back of the couch and flopped down onto its familiar contours. "I don't care if you are messing with my head. You're not the reason I left."

Persephone watched him uncertainly, but Draco kept his eyes on the ceiling. It was a beautiful ceiling, translucent green stone that formed a shallow dome. The Slytherin common room was under the lake though not deeply so, and faint light patterns danced across the ceiling as the water overhead rippled and churned. There were protections upon protections to keep the ceiling from collapsing and flooding the common room, but Draco pictured it doing just that. The water would fall as hard and heavy as the stones it had broken away at first, then it would fill the space and all would be calm and cold.

It had been tempting to blame Persephone and to think there was a way back to the home he had left behind. But he had to face the truth. He had chosen to leave their world, and he could not trust his parents anymore. They were Voldemort's. He let out a bitter laugh. "You know, I honestly thought she was worried about me for a moment."

"Maybe she is," Persephone said softly. "Maybe she believes it. When I was younger, someone wrote a stupid article about me and suggested that I had lots of friends because I was charmed by that song spell. Like I couldn't make friends on my own. Like Lucius had nothing to do with it. Maybe Narci believed it. She always sent me to ask the teachers for favors. Maybe she thought I was messing with Lucius's head, and now I've gone for yours."

Draco looked at her. "Why did you tell me that?"

"I didn't want someone else to tell you."

"How does it go?" Draco asked.

"How does what go?"

"The song spell."

Persephone looked as though she would rather do anything in the world than sing it, but he stared at her steadily. She screwed her face as though about to eat something a troll with unwashed hands had prepared and spoke rather than sang the words. "Silver child with hair quite wild, radiant and splendid, a clever girl, a charming girl, a girl that's well befriended."

He studied her, his mind clinking together all the arguments and evidence. "And this was the charm powerful enough to turn your hair and eyes that way?"

"Yes," said Persephone defensively. "But that doesn't mean I have any special powers of influence."

Draco smiled indulgently at her. "You're delusional. But let us take comfort in our delusions."

She frowned at him. "What does that mean?"

"You believe what you want," Draco said. "And I'll pretend my mother really worries about me."

"I'm sure she does," Persephone said, and her face was sympathetic again.

They sat in silence for at least half an hour after that. Persephone attempted to study her Arithmancy notes, and Draco stared at the ceiling, waiting for it to fall. "I wasn't an only child by choice, you know," he said to the ceiling. Persephone looked up from her notes. "Mother and Father tried to have another child for years. Mother had at least three miscarriages after I was born. One of them got eight months along before it died." Draco had been seven at the time. He remembered finding his mother sitting by the empty cradle pale as a ghost in her ivory dressing grown. She had seemed so sad and distant that it frightened him. That image of her was burned white upon his mind and shaded all his thoughts when they turned to her.

"Poor Narci," Persephone murmured.

"You pity her?" Draco said, taking his eyes off the ceiling. "After what she did to you?"

"I know it sounds strange," Persephone said. "But I feel like I owe her an apology. I tend to come off as flirting even when I don't mean too sometimes. Maybe she thought I was trying to steal Lucius away, and I should have told her that I wasn't. I feel like it's my fault for causing confusion. If I hadn't given her any reasons to feel jealous, maybe she wouldn't have done what she did."

"Maybe," Draco said. "But she's still the one who did it. You're not the one who needs to apologize."

Persephone sniffed and bit her lip. Her eyes suddenly shimmering with unshed tears. "I want to go back and do it over so badly. I want us to be friends again, but we can't go back can we?"

"No," Draco agreed. "We can't go back."

o

* * *

o

Time stubbornly refused to reverse or even pause. Draco found himself in the middle of exams. He did well enough in the Defense Against the Dark Arts practical, except that he still could not manage a corporeal patronus. He felt a sense of satisfaction when he managed to conjure a tea set as nice as Goyle's and not missing pieces like Potter's. Charms went smoothly, which was almost disappointing because Charms exams often had the most entertaining disasters.

The Potions exam was mostly written. Draco's quill hand was cramping by the end of it. Professor Snape had paced the classroom for much of it, prowling for anyone unwise enough to cheat on his exam.

"Time's up," Snape announced. Draco's aching hand did a relieved dance, which made Pansy smirk. "Turn in your exam papers and your final proposals." Snape took a seat at his desk and watched as the students file up to drop off their parchments. Draco was one of the first in line right behind Hermione. The press of students had brought him with a couple of inches from her. He was tempted to accidentally bump into her, but he didn't. Hermione dropped her parchment and sharply whipped away from the desk, and the opportunity was gone. He went back to his seat to retrieve his book bag.

"And I would like you to see me in my office after class, Ms. Granger," Snape said as though he had forgotten to mention it earlier.

"No!" Hermione protested in a startled tone.

Draco looked at her along with everyone else in the room.

"What did you say?" Snape asked, looking nearly as confused as the rest of them.

"No," Hermione repeated, firmly this time. "I'm not staying after class."

Snape considered her for a moment, while Hermione stared defiantly back at him. Draco tried to figure out what he had missed.

"Very well, then," said Snape. "Mr. Longbottom, you will stay."

Neville went a little paler, but Draco was not worried about Neville. He watched Hermione as she stormed out with Potter on her heels.

"What was that all about in Potions?" he tried asking her before the Astronomy exam.

"Nothing to do with you, Malfoy," she said snappily. It was still more than she had said to him in weeks.

o

* * *

o

"Are you sure you don't want me to stay?" Pansy asked when they were saying goodbye in the front hall.

"No," Draco said, tucking her scarf into a more effective position. "Rose would never forgive me if I kept you. Go home and have a lovely Christmas. I'll see you again soon enough." Pansy gave Draco a quick kiss on the cheek and Daphne a pointed look. Persephone was across the hall exchanging goodbye hugs with some of the sixth year girls.

"Bye, Draco. Bye, Draco." Crabbe and Goyle grunted as they passed.

"Bye," Draco said. "Bye," he repeated to Pansy and dropped his hands from her shoulders. She gave him a sad smile and followed the other students out the great doors.

When the last trickle of students had finished flowing out of the entry hall, the great doors shut with a loud clank and Draco found himself alone in the entry hall with Daphne. She threw her arms around his shoulders in a mock seductive pose. "So do you want to have that scandalous affair that Pany's so worried about?"

"Not really," Draco said dully.

Daphne let out a loud peel of laughter and patted Draco's shoulder. "How about a late breakfast?"

"Sure," he said and followed her into the Great Hall. There were perhaps thirty other students staying for Christmas, but only five Slytherins. The Deys were leaving as they entered and Persephone was nowhere in sight, so Draco had a quiet meal with Daphne. They parted ways afterwards.

Draco kept to himself as much as he could for the next couple days, hiding out in his dorm room and the Potions lab. He did manage to get a fair bit of reading done, but he had never felt that the holidays were an appropriate time for productivity. On the third day, he felt restless and took a long walk through the empty corridors. The red and green hung around the castle made him ache for home to the point of being physically painful.

There were still remnants of the Yule Ball decorations littering the castle. A few of the suits of armor still sang carols when they passed, though McGonagall had improved them so they no longer forgot the words. Draco had never paid much attention to the lyrics before, but he was in such a state that "God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen" nearly drove him to tears. Comfort and joy seemed like such distant things.

Draco was not sure what he thought about God or death or religion in general. The immediate complications of life demanded too much of his attention. He had a vague sense that he believed in God, but he wasn't sure he liked the fellow.

He paused when he heard approaching footsteps. Hermione rounded the corner. Her steps faltered for a very brief moment when she saw him. He moved to one side to let her pass, and she did so, following their normal routine by avoiding looking at him. Draco did not look away this time though. He watched her openly while she stared determinedly at the wall. She was not wearing her school robes, but still had her S.P.E.W. badge fixed to her red jumper. Draco opened his mouth as she passed but could not think of anything to say until he was staring at the back of her head. He felt silly calling after her, so he let the "Happy Christmas" die on his lips.

"Spew," he murmured to himself when she was out of sight and headed for the kitchens.

o

* * *

o

Draco had never been in the Hogwarts kitchens before. He had always sent Crabbe or Goyle down when he wanted something. They seemed so eager to go. The kitchens were roughly the size of the Great Hall, complete with the four long tables, and there was no corner in the room that did not contain a busy house-elf.

One of the little creatures scampered up to him. "Does the young master require something?"

Draco had always been taught that the proper way to speak to a house-elf was to address the air at eye level of where a wizard should be and only look at the creature if necessary. "Not at the moment, I just want to have a look around," he said. At the far end of the kitchen was a great fireplace with a roaring fire. Pots and skillets hung inside it on hooks and racks or just hovered unaided above the flames. Shiny pots hung around the walls glistening in the firelight.

Draco forced himself to look at the little elf, who was still watching him patiently. He was dressed in a white tea towel with the Hogwarts crest embroidered on it. The other house-elves were wearing the same uniform, and Draco thought it looked much better than the dirty rags the house-elves at home had worn. Another house-elf scurried up to him with a tray of strawberry tarts, and Draco took one. It was not simply their uniforms that set these house-elves apart from the ones at the Malfoy Manor. It was their attitude. They looked very eager and happy as though they had the best jobs in the world. There was none of the crouching and trembling Draco was used too. No hint of underlying resentment.

He took a bite out of his strawberry tart and sat down on the floor so that he was closer to eye level with the elves. "Can I ask you something?" he addressed first elf.

"Of course, sir," the elf squeaked.

"Do you know Hermione Granger?" he asked.

The two house-elves exchanged disapproving frowns. "We know of her, sir," the first elf said.

"Could you tell me about her?" Draco asked.

"Well…she is being a witch, sir," the second elf began. Draco almost laughed, because it was pretty obvious to him the elf was having difficulty describing her without saying anything critical. "And we are thinking this is her last year at Hogwarts, sir," said the first elf a little more brightly.

"I know that," Draco said. "I was wondering if you could tell me—"

"DON'T YOU BE TELLING HIM A THING ABOUT HERMIONE GRANGER!" A new voice screamed. Draco looked up to see the oddest assortment of colors coming at him in a house-elf sized blur. "HE IS A VERY BAD BOY, HE IS! WICKED BOY!" Draco scrambled back to avoid the knobby arms flying at him. A crowd of house-elves had gathered to restrain the belligerent one.

"Hermione Granger is a good girl!" the angry elf continued as he struggled in the others grasps. "And you is not to be telling _him_ anything about her! He is a bad dark wizard, he is!"

"You is not be saying such things, Dobby," the first elf told him sternly. "You is to be behaving, or we is to be telling the headmaster he should not let you be visiting anymore."

"Dobby?" Draco repeated, trying to recognize the elf underneath his odd assortment of hats and scarves. "I remember you. You used to belong to my father."

"Dobby is belonging to no one now!" the elf shouted proudly. "Dobby is a free elf!" Some of the other elves shuddered as though he had just said something dirty.

"I remember," Draco said. "But what are you doing here?"

"Dobby has come to visit Harry Potter," the elf said fiercely. "Harry Potter is a friend to Dobby, and so is Miss Hermione Granger. And I is not letting you hurt her!"

"I'm not trying to hurt her!" Draco protested.

Dobby had stopped struggling so hard against the other elves and narrowed his large green eyes suspiciously at Draco. "Dobby is not trusting you. Dobby remembers his old masters plots. Dobby knows his old masters served the dark lord. Dobby thinks the young master is just as wicked as his father. The Malfoys are _bad_ dark wizards."

The other house-elves looked horrified by what Dobby had said, and some of them were starting to give Draco suspicious glances of their own. "You should not be saying such things, Dobby," the first elf said again, but he was also eyeing Draco uncertainly.

Draco felt stung. He wanted to defend his family name, but he was uncertain how. His father was proud of being a dark wizard after all. "What did _I_ ever do to you?" he said instead.

"You pulled Dobby's ears til they was red and sore," the house-elf supplied.

Draco searched his memory for when this particular incident had occurred. "I was three!"

"And when you is seven, you is kicking Dobby," the elf continued. "And when you is eleven you is throwing things at him."

Draco could not remember the particular instances, but he knew there was a good chance the elf was speaking the truth. "I'm sorry," he said, not really feeling sorry, but he thought it might shut the elf up.

"You is what?" Dobby said, clearly startled. The other elves let go of him, but Dobby did not move.

"I said I'm sorry," Draco repeated. "I'm sorry I kicked you, and I'm sorry I pulled your ears."

Dobby just blinked at him a few times, then he narrowed his eyes. "You is never being sorry before."

"Well, I am now," Draco said irritably.

"Dobby is still not trusting you," the elf said.

"Fine," Draco said. "I didn't ask you to."

"Why is you here?" the elf was calm now, but still very suspicious. "Why is you asking about Hermione Granger?"

"I wanted," Draco began. "I wanted to know what you, what the house-elves, thought about _sp_-, about S.P.E.W."

There was a collective groan and shudder from the elves at these words. "We is not wanting paying!" one of them protested loudly.

"We is not wanting freeing!" came another.

"Well, what do you want?" Draco asked. It was an odd conversation. The house-elves were not used to expressing their own desires, and it took quite a bit of prodding and careful questions to get anything out of them. Dobby continued to glower at Draco throughout, so he avoided the topic of Hermione Granger.

o

* * *

o

It was nearly dinnertime when Draco emerged from the kitchens, and he headed up to the Great Hall. Daphne and Persephone were sitting on either side of Victoria Dey, and Draco took a seat across from them next to Thomas.

"Where have you been?" Daphne demanded. Not waiting for an answer she continued. "Don't go running off tomorrow night. You're expected in the common room at eight."

"Why?" Draco asked.

"We're having a recital," Persephone said brightly, her arm was draped over Victoria's shoulder.

"Lovely," Draco said as the food appeared. He took something hot and meaty off the nearest platter and passed it to Victoria who did likewise. He glanced across the room at the Gryffindor table. They looked tired and out of sorts. Hermione cast a dark look in the Slytherins' direction as she spooned a mound of potatoes onto her plate. "Lovely," Draco murmured again as he turned back to the table. Maybe he would try talking to her after Christmas.

"Victoria is going to dance for us," said Daphne, clearly looking for a reaction from him.

And she got one. "Dance?" Draco repeated. He looked at Victoria.

"Ballet," Thomas supplied. Victoria avoided Draco's eyes and looked at her brother instead.

"Victoria's does her own choreography," Persephone said. "You'll come won't you, Draco?"

Draco nodded.

o

* * *

o

Draco spent most of the next day in the common room playing wizards chess with Thomas so he could not be accused of running away. The girls were enjoying themselves. At least Persephone and Daphne were clearly enjoying themselves. Draco doubted that Victoria could giggle if she wanted to, but she put up no resistance to the other girls fussing. Draco was sure if Victoria did not want to dance, she was capable of making that very clear.

When Thomas got up to put the board away, Persephone collapsed dramatically into his empty seat as though the preparations had worn her out.

"Is that what you meant when you said Victoria doesn't want to be a witch?" Draco asked. "She wants to be a ballerina."

Persephone smiled and nodded. "I caught her looking at pictures of them in the library, in the Muggle Studies section. She's taught herself quite a bit. She finally told me she had seen a tour group of them while her family was still living in Africa, and she's been reading everything she could about them since."

"I'm sure her father approves."

Persephone frowned. "I'm sure he wouldn't. You do understand this is still a secret recital," she said in a lower voice. "It took a lot of coaxing for Victoria to agree to show anyone, so don't go telling all your mates about it. I promised her you wouldn't."

"Tell them that the school dueling champion who strikes fear into the hearts of fifth years secretly aspires to be a ballerina? No one would believe me if I did," said Draco.

Persephone gave him an admonishing look. "Good, because I think she's rather nervous," she said. "And I really want her to feel special tonight. She deserves to have a special night, so I don't want you making fun of her."

"I wouldn't dare," Draco said truthfully, a bit annoyed that Persephone seemed to think he might.

After dinner, they cleared out a wide area before the fireplace and arranged some chairs and one of the couches for the small audience. If Victoria was nervous, she dealt with her nervousness by wrapping herself in an aura of indifference. She came down the stairs carrying a large carved wooden music box and wearing a white leotard and white tights. Daphne had loaned her the white leotard, and Persephone had transfigured it to fit Victoria's smaller frame.

Victoria set the music box down on a shelf and opened it in a ceremonial fashion. The music was pretty but haunting. The notes were too far in range to have been produced by purely mechanical means. Without looking at anyone in her audience, she struck a formal pose in the center of the open area before the fire and began to dance.

When they were eight, Pansy and Daphne had gone through a short-lived phase where they wanted to be ballerinas and had subjected Draco and their mothers to a recital. About half way through, they had collapsed over one another in a fit of giggles. This recital was nothing like that one. There was nothing uncertain or haphazard in Victoria's movements, and no one felt like giggling. Pansy and Daphne had spent most of their time watching and prompting their audience for approving nods and claps. Victoria seemed entirely absorbed in her dancing as though nothing else in the world existed but her body, the stone floor, and the music box.

Draco had been to the Russian ballet with his mother, and Victoria was not nearly that good. Still, she was graceful and there was a precision to her movements that told him this was well-rehearsed dance. He doubted the image of her lithe little body even darker against her white leotards dancing to the music box with the large flickering fire behind her would ever leave his mind. There was something immensely tragic to her dancing that seeped into his bones. He had an image of her practicing in secret in her dorm room to the same little tune on the music box. He knew that she would never be a true ballerina. She had the talent and the drive. But his mother had told him that most professional ballerinas started their lessons when they were three or five and studied for years under the strictest masters. Even if she might be able to catch up now, by the time Victoria was seventeen and free to pursue lessons she would be hopelessly behind.

As she rolled her torso to the music with her arms in a great circle, he pictured her as grown woman, still hiding away in her room to practice her secret dance to the music box. She was the sort of stubborn sufferer who would do just that kind of thing. An Anderson style heroine with her bittersweet fairy tale dance. There was something very tragic about even the most successful ballerina in Draco's mind. He recalled the way his mother spoke of them. Ballerinas were like fairies, lovely to look at but really of no consequence in the grand scheme of things.

He had abandoned his own pipe dreams of being a professional seeker, because his father had seemed to feel much the same way about them. Quidditch was very important while one was at school, but to treat it as anything more than a pastime as an adult was pure folly.

Victoria turned sharply on her toes and came out of the turn with one arm and leg outstretched. The music box fell silent, and Daphne and Persephone whistled and applauded loudly. Draco and Thomas clapped with more reserved. Victoria walked back over to the music box and closed it. Persephone and Daphne both hugged her and went into such a babble that Draco felt he was not required to do much more than give her a smile. Victoria did not smile, but Draco thought she looked less tense than usual.

o

* * *

o

"Wake up, Draco! It's Christmas!"

Draco woke with a start and waved his arms to ward off the two blurry weights that had jumped on his bed. One blur resolved itself into something silvery. The other was sort of stripy. Daphne seemed to have been unable to decide what color to make her hair that morning and had a bit of each shade streaked through.

"Are you planning to stay in bed all day?" Daphne asked as she slid onto the covers beside him.

Draco sat up and retreated towards his pillow, pulling the blankets with him. "That was the general plan, yes."

"You can't sleep through Christmas," Persephone said.

"What are you doing in here anyway? You're not supposed to be in the boys dorm," Draco groused. "Get out before I give you both detention."

"With Snape?" Daphne said hopefully.

"With Filch," Draco said coolly.

"You're no fun," Daphne pouted and hopped off the bed. "I'm going downstairs."

Persephone just pulled her knees up onto the covers. "I'm not letting you stay in bed all day and mope. Victoria and Thomas are already down in the common room. Now get dressed."

"Look, Persephone, today's going to be depressing enough without watching everyone else open presents," said Draco. "I'd really rather go back to sleep and wake up tomorrow."

"You've got presents," Persephone said quietly. "Besides since we can't spend today with our families, I thought it might be nice to spend it with each other." The sad, distant look she had was worse than tears.

Draco sighed and sat up in bed. "I've got presents, huh?" he said. "Fine, I'll be down in a minute."

Persephone's face lit up with a smile, and she skipped out of the room. _Slytherin girls really ought to come with warnings_, Draco thought as he got dressed.

Daphne was already stretched out on the couch when Draco got downstairs, holding up a very expensive looking white sweater. She pulled it on over her other clothes, admiring the subtle contrast between the white of her sweater and the white of her leggings. "Look who's decided to be friendly," she said in acknowledgement of Draco, before reaching for another box in the pile gathered on one end of the couch. "And this is from Sergio. I met him in Venice last-oh, look how sweet." She held up a small silver heart shaped locket with what was probably a real diamond set in to the front. "Mm, and he sent a picture, look. Isn't he yummy?" She handed Persephone a photograph of a very good-looking and clearly Italian wizard at least ten years older than Daphne.

"Isn't he a little young for you?" Draco asked as he sunk down in an armchair.

Daphne stuck her tongue out at him. She finished fastening the delicate silver chain around her neck and adjusted the pendant before taking another box. Persephone was holding a very thick book lovingly in her lap. Draco felt a little bad that he had not got her anything for Christmas, but then he had not got anyone anything. "Who's that from?" he asked, indicating the book.

"Oliver," Daphne answered for her with a small dramatic sigh. "Looks like he's a swot too. A book for Christmas."

"Oh, but I love it!" Persephone said hugging the book to her chest.

"You're all swots," Daphne said in a despairing tone and tossed a wadded ball of wrapping paper over Persephone's head. Draco noticed that neither of the Dey children had any boxes piled next to them. He rummaged under the tree to see if they had missed something.

"Persephone, you've got quite a pile under here."

"Do I?" She sounded surprised.

"Yeah, come look." Draco was distracted by a large, flat box with his name on it. "I've got one from my mother."

"You sound surprised," said Daphne. "Is she still that mad at you?"

"I guess we'll find out," Draco said, giving Persephone a meaningful glance.

"Well, open it," she encouraged him.

Draco felt everyone's eyes on him, so he unwrapped the package and opened it. "Dress robes?"

"Oo, let me see!" Daphne twisted on the couch for a better look, and Draco held up the box containing the silver robes so that she could have better look. "Look at those lines, magnifique! Those have to be Archipelo."

"What's Archipelo?" Victoria asked.

"Designer," Daphne supplied. "He usually weaves some nice enchantments into the fabric."

"Do you think they could be cursed?" Draco asked Persephone in an undertone, using the box to shield his lip movements.

"I don't think so," Persephone said, taking the robes gingerly with her fingers. She frowned thoughtfully as she examined them. "If anything, I think they have extra protections on them."

"That's a little strange," Draco said, taking the robes back to look them over.

"That's going to be a perfect color on you," Daphne said, still cooing over the robes.

"You open something," Draco told Persephone, wanting to take the attention off himself.

"Well, I don't—oh mon! Are these all for me?"

Draco could not help thinking about the protections on the robes. He touched the smooth fabric, unable to sense the magic as Persephone had, but trusted her assessment. Any relief he might have felt that his mother was trying to protect him was over shadowed by the thought that she seemed to believe he needed extra protections.

"This one's for you," Persephone said handing him another box. She seemed to be distressed rather than delighted by her own pile. "I didn't get anyone anything. I feel horrible."

"You didn't have an opportunity," Draco said, though he knew exactly how she felt. It seemed his friends had not written him off their Christmas list yet, and he knew they would be disappointed not to have gotten anything in return.

"I just don't have any money," Persephone whimpered. "What am I going to do?"

"Don't worry about it, Sephi," Daphne assured her. "Everyone will understand. Ah! These are from Antoine. He didn't send me a picture, but I've got one of him up in my room."

"I'd like to see it," Persephone said, finally choosing a box from her pile to unwrap and handing a second one to Victoria.

Daphne finished putting her new diamond earrings in her holes. Draco remembered her ears had been unadorned when he came in, as though she had been expecting the gift. She raised her wand lazily. "_Accio_ picture," she said and a few seconds later it fluttered into the room.

"You've reached new heights in lethargy," Draco said.

Daphne decided to take it as compliment. "Just think of it as being efficient." She stretched luxuriously and sent the photograph to Persephone. "I'm not sure which one I like better, but no one said I have to choose." She laughed and made a show of how her earrings and pendant complimented one another. "It's almost like they got together and coordinated." Draco smirked. He suspected that Daphne had done the coordinating.

"He's very good looking," Persephone said, indicating the photograph.

"He's all right," Daphne said. "Do you have any pictures of Oliver?" Persephone shook her head, and Daphne pouted. "I want to see him. He's not ugly, is he?"

Persephone gave her a patient look. "No, he's just camera shy."

"Well, tell him to get over it," Daphne groused. "I want to know what he looks like."

Draco let out an amused snort. "Didn't you get anything, Victoria?" he asked to cover himself. He noticed she had handed the box she had unwrapped back to Persephone.

"Our father doesn't believe in Christmas," said Victoria.

"You know, Victoria. I'm starting not to like your father very much," said Draco. Victoria did not say anything, but she raised her eyebrows at him. Thomas looked at the ground. Draco wondered if he perhaps he should not have said anything, but he had never hated a man so much without having met him.

"From my uncle," Daphne said flatly, holding up a thin gold bracelet banded with small pearls. "I'm mad at him. I didn't go home for Christmas, because he was going to be there." She gave the bracelet a contemptuous look, as though her uncle's attempt to buy back her affections bored her. "You said you didn't get anything, Victoria? Here." She tossed the bracelet to Victoria as though glad to be rid of it. Draco was used to Daphne's casual generosity, but Victoria was taken off guard by it. She picked up the bracelet gently, the white pearls and bright gold contrasting against her dark skin. She looked at it and Daphne as though she had never seen something so strange.

"You can have this, Thomas," Draco said, pushing the box of sweets Crabbe had given him towards the younger Dey.

Persephone managed to bestow a few gifts from her own pile on each of them as well. They made a breakfast of the various sweets they had received. Afterwards, Daphne went about writing thank you letters to Sergio and Antoine, and Draco let Thomas set up the model Quidditch pitch Goyle had given him. Victoria seemed transfixed by the small pile of gifts she had acquired. Persephone put on her coat and disappeared from the common room. Draco found her through a window later and watched her transfigure piles of snow into ornaments.

She came back, her arms laden with crystal ornaments. "It's not much," she moaned. "But it's all I could think of." She gave one to each of them, a dragon for Draco and a ballerina ornament for Victoria.

"They're very pretty," Draco told her. "I'm sorry I didn't get you anything."

"You gave me the best present ever already!" Persephone said, giving him a hug. "You're exempt for life." Draco did his best to ignore the intrigued look Daphne was giving them.

They went to lunch together when the time came. Draco still felt rather melancholy, but the rest of them seemed to be in Christmas spirits. He suspected even Victoria was happy. Though neither she nor Thomas was smiling, Victoria was not exuding her usual dark aura, and Thomas was walking with a lighter step.

He sat next to Thomas at the table. A few people from the other houses wished Persephone a Happy Christmas, and she returned the sentiments enthusiastically. Now that she had her ornaments to give as thank you gifts, she was waxing on the generosity and other wonderful qualities of her gift givers. Draco turned to look with the others as Persephone and Ginny Weasley shouted Happy Christmas to each other. Ginny had come in with Potter and Hermione and her brother. The wunderkinder were all wearing Weasley sweaters. Hermione's was sporting an "HG" and Potter's an "HB" in interlocking letters.

Daphne seemed to be following his thoughts. "HB? Do you think mother Weasley has forgotten how to spell?" she asked snidely.

"It's for Head Boy," Persephone said, her attention focused on her new book.

"How do you know?" Draco asked. He figured she was right, but it was more fun thinking Mrs. Weasley had blundered.

Persephone shrugged. "Just a guess."

Draco was trying to remember if he had ever seen a Weasley sweater on Hermione before and wondering why it made him a bit irritable to see one now, when she turned suddenly and started walking towards them.

"Mudblood approaching," Daphne murmured. Persephone looked up and beamed at Hermione. Hermione was smiling pleasantly enough, but Draco had watched her long enough to tell that the smile was forced.

Hermione glanced at the thick book in Persephone's hand. "New book?"

"Oh yes, it's my Christmas present from Oliver!" Persephone said brightly. "David Copperfield."

"Charles Dickens?" Hermione said, sounding intrigued.

Persephone nodded vigorously. "He's my favorite, and I've never read this one."

"So you like Muggle literature?" Hermione asked cocking an eyebrow. Persephone nodded. "That's nice. Ever read Lolita?"

Draco had never heard of Lolita, but it seemed to hold some significance for Persephone. Her smile vanished. "No, I haven't."

Daphne tossed her party colored hair. "I have," she said, giving Hermione her own false smile. "Nabokov has an incredible way with the language, don't you think?"

The triumph left Hermione's face. She gave Daphne a disgusted look and walked away.

"What was that all about?" Draco asked. Persephone did not answer him. Hermione had clearly upset her. She sat still for a few minutes, thinking hard about something, then got to her feet.

"Excuse me," Persephone said before standing and walking out of the Great Hall. Daphne had been watching her and now Draco with her lips parted and something clearly on her mind as well. Draco ignored her and forced a conversation with Thomas.

o

* * *

o

He did not see Persephone until much later that evening. He was beginning to really worry about her, when she walked into the common room and came straight to him. "I told him," she announced simply.

"Oh," Draco said. "Good."

She gave him a small smile. "Well, I think I'm going to bed now, goodnight."

"Goodnight," he said. "And Happy Christmas."

"Happy Christmas."


	14. The Younging Potion

**Disclaimer:** This story is based on the Harry Potter novels written by J.K. Rowling. All characters created by J.K. Rowling are owned by J.K. Rowling. The few characters created by me (i.e. Persephone, Hotchet, Kagome…) belong to me, but are available for use in other fics as long as I get credited as their creator. None of us are making any money off this and no infringement is intended.

* * *

o

**Level 2.9: The Younging Potion**

Potter seemed to accept Persephone as quickly and completely as Draco had predicted. Daphne was baffled by Harry and Persephone's suddenly acquired habit of taking long walks together and holding hands and private conversations. Victoria and Thomas were used to keeping each other company, so Draco locked himself away in the potions lab. Snape spent much of the time in the room with him working on his own projects, but they did not talk more than necessary.

Draco wondered if Snape was experiencing the same odd jealousy that he was. As much as he had pushed and prodded Persephone to reveal herself to Potter, now that she had, he regretted it. He missed his little sister and could not help feeling that he had lost her completely now that she had her real family back.

Within a day, Harry seemed to have become her world. Now even when they did see each other at meals or before bed, Harry seemed to be all she wanted to talk about. _At least she's happy_ Draco thought, trying to console himself with the thought that is was the right thing to let her go.

Two days after Christmas, Potter cornered him in an empty hall. Draco had half been expecting it, but he was no longer looking forward to it. "Malfoy! Hey, Malfoy!"

Draco stopped, bit back a sigh, and turned to face Harry.

"Persephone told me that you were the one who rescued her," said Potter. "She said you tried to bring her to me which is why you were at Privet Drive. Why didn't you tell me that?"

"I'm not looking for thanks," Draco drawled.

"I wasn't trying to thank you," Potter said stiffly. Draco could not help frowning. "I want to know what you're up to."

_You've got to be kidding me._ After all he had been through, Potter was still going to treat him like the enemy. Draco felt a flash of anger. "It's all part of this wonderfully sinister plot I've concocted. So brilliant, even I don't understand it."

Potter continued to give him an unflinching stare as though he was taking Draco's words very seriously. "I don't understand it either."

Draco wanted to bang his head against the wall. His or Potter's either one. It did not matter at this point. "For pity's sake, you Gryffindors wouldn't know sarcasm if it walked up, shook your hand, and introduced itself."

"Malfoy, you wouldn't know how to not be sarcastic, if I had Hermione write out instructions for you," Potter retorted.

Draco felt his anger leak away. "What do you want, Potter?"

"An explanation," said Potter. "I am grateful that you saved Persephone. That is I would be if I was sure that's what happened. How do I know this isn't some ploy to gain my trust?"

"Do you trust me?" Draco said, raising his eyebrows, because the answer was quite obvious.

"No," Harry said.

"Then it wasn't a very good ploy was it?"

"That's the part that confuses me," said Harry. "If you wanted me to trust you, why wait so long? Why didn't you tell me what was going on yourself?"

"You said it yourself," Draco said. "You don't trust me. If I had told you who Persephone was, would you have believed me? Didn't think so."

Harry was looking at Draco as if he had never really seen him before. It was not a flattering look, but it showed he was thinking. "That still doesn't tell me what you want. How do I know you're not working for Voldemort?"

Draco pulled up his sleeves and showed Harry the white of his forearms.

"All that tells me is that you haven't taken the mark," Harry said.

"Good point," Draco said flatly and pulled his sleeves back down. "If you don't trust me, and you don't trust Persephone, then I guess you don't know I'm not working for him. But I can tell you what I want." Draco took a few steps to close the distance between him and Potter. "I want out of it. I don't want to work for you, and I don't want to work for him. All I want is out of this whole bloody mess."

If Potter was bothered by Draco's proximity he did not show it. He met Draco's grey eyes with his green ones. "Where's Voldemort?" he asked.

Draco looked back at Harry in amazement. Potter was trying to use legilimency, and he was quite possibly the clumsiest legilimens Draco had come across. "I already told you all I could," Draco said softly. If Harry could not figure that out, he was not intelligent enough to handle the information anyway. "But even if I spelled it out for you, it wouldn't do you any good. I'm not going to be your spy, Potter. I said I want out, not in more deeply. You've got your aunt back. Be happy with that." Draco stalked past him, and Potter did not try to stop him.

He got five steps before he thought of something and turned around. "Persephone has a bit of an issue with animals so don't be stupid and try make her hold Granger's cat or something."

"I know," Harry said.

Draco nodded and meant to walk off again, but he thought of something else. "And she's a bit sensitive about her hair, so I'd be careful how you talk about it...and I think she has a myrtlap allergy, so no potions with the essence in it."

Potter smirked and crossed his arms. "Do I need to take her on walks and check for flees?"

Draco scowled. "Just take care of her, Potter."

"You really like her, huh?"

"I like her a hell of a lot more than I like you," Draco said.

Potter actually smiled. "Funny, I could say the same."

"Cute," Draco muttered. He turned his back on Harry and walked away.

o

* * *

o

The discussion with Harry had not gone anything remotely like the way Draco had planned it, but he was not keen to try again. He kept to himself for the rest of Christmas break, avoiding Daphne even though the loneliness was starting to get to him. He was so overjoyed to see Crabbe and Goyle again that he did hug them when they returned from the train.

Once that they had assured themselves that he was still in his right mind, the seventh year boys gathered in their dorm. After the other boys had recounted their holiday adventures or lack thereof, Nott steered the conversation to girls. "Start of term survey," he said. "Best looking seventh year girl?" Nott loved these conversations.

"Daphne," Crabbe said reluctantly.

"If you don't count personality," Nott agreed. "Daphne. Draco?"

"Pansy," Draco said, opening up the new Quidditch magazine Goyle had brought with him. He was lying on his bed with his head on the foot end and the curtains open. His fantasy Hermione was stretched out on the bed beside him. She had been keeping him company for the past few days, and he was having trouble getting rid of her.

Crabbe and Nott were sitting on the floor and Goyle sitting on the end of Crabbe's bed. Zabini was stretched out with a book on his own bed.

"You always say Pansy," Nott complained. Draco shrugged. "Goyle?"

Goyle frowned with concentration. "Daphne, I guess," he said. Draco smiled. Not because he was enjoying the conversation. He hated conversations like this, because he knew what his mother would think of them. But his fantasy Hermione was giving her own running commentary on the boys' conversation.

"I think Indigo's gotten rather pretty," Blaise said, not looking up from his book.

"Indigo's always been pretty," said Draco. "She's just stopped trying to hide it."

Nott made a face. "She's flat. Okay, next question, best breasts?"

"Millicent," Goyle said happily, though Draco thought it would be unwise for anyone to agree with him.

"If you're just going by size," Nott said. The word _pig_ was starting to come up a lot in fantasy Hermione's commentary, and Draco had to bite his tongue to keep from laughing.

"Daphne," Crabbe said again with a sigh.

"Hm, Daphne," Nott nodded sagely. "Though Eloise Midgen's got a decent set if you can get past her nose. Come on, Malfoy."

"Pansy," he said.

Nott laughed. "As you like. Best legs?"

"Daphne," the three boys said together.

"They're not the best," Draco said. "She just shows them off more."

"Something for which I think we're all grateful," Nott said. "Who's got the best then?"

"Pansy," Draco said, mostly because she was his safe answer for all of it, and it would make the other boys laugh.

"Oh, I don't know. I think Granger's are pretty nice," Blaise said, grinning mischievously at Draco.

Draco had been trying to figure out how he felt about Zabini all last term and now he knew. He hated him. His fantasy Hermione was looking a bit too pleased with herself.

Zabini closed his book. "Why don't you ever do this with more interesting features, like best laugh or best eyes or something?"

"Fine," Nott said, sounding annoyed with the interruption but intrigued that Zabini was actually participating. "Best hair then?"

"Pansy," Draco said.

"Daphne's," Crabbe said in a resigned sort of way.

"I liked Indigo's hair when it was long," Goyle said.

"And it's proper color," Blaise agreed. "But it's cute now too. I think she's letting it grow out again."

"Good," Draco said.

"Hm...I can't decide," Nott said. "Malfoy, why do you always say Pansy?"

"Why do you never say Laurel?" Draco retorted.

"Well, she's a sixth year for one," Nott said. "And Laurel doesn't have the _best_ of anything so much as she has good _everything_." Draco thought this was a crude but fairly accurate assessment of Nott's girlfriend.

"Best smile?" Zabini asked, clearly trying to raise the tone of the discussion.

"Tracey Davis," said Draco promptly, and fantasy Hermione fell into fit of giggles.

o

* * *

o

Pansy was waiting for him at the foot of the stairs when morning came. Her arms were folded over her chest, and her eyebrow was cocked dangerously. "Goodmorning," Draco said as though he did not notice her posture.

"Morning," she said coolly. He was almost past her when she added. "Why did you lie to me?"

Draco raised his eyebrows innocently.

"There are no witch hunters in Canada," Pansy said pointedly and not very quietly.

"That's good news," Draco said lightly.

Pansy did not look amused. "Why won't you tell me the truth?"

Draco leaned against the stair rail and looked her straight in the eyes. "Because, love, it's none of your business."

"If it involves—" Pansy began, none too quietly, but Draco grabbed her arm and jerked her forward, spinning her and pulling her in so she fell with her arm around his neck and he caught her about the waist. Some people passing through the common room giggled at the scene. Pansy placed her free hand on his chest to steady herself. Her expression was completely bewildered.

"It involves people and things that won't effect you, if you can keep your pretty nose out of them," Draco said quietly. "Stop trying to be the inquisitor, love. I thought we were supposed to be enjoying our last year in school." He put his mouth beside her ear and whispered. "If I could tell you the truth, I would, but I can't. So if you care about me at all, let it be."

Pansy attempted to steady herself, though she made no effort to get away from him. She pulled her head back so that she could meet his eyes. She still looked rather bewildered, but her brown eyes were shining with unshed tears now. "You didn't have to lie to me."

"Yes," Draco said. "I did." He released her hand and waist and put his hands on her shoulders. "But let's forget about it. Did you have a nice Christmas? How is Rose doing?"

Pansy looked rather indignant at the change in subject, but Draco offered her his arm. She visibly forced herself to become collected and took it his elbow. Rather stiltedly at first and then more fluidly she recounted the highlights of her holiday.

o

* * *

o

The new year brought a change in the seating arrangement. Most significantly Blaise and Pansy switched places, so that Blaise was settled between Daphne and Indigo. Pansy took the place on Draco's left, and unlike Blaise she was not willing to move aside when Persephone came. Pansy clearly resented not being let in on the secret, but she seemed to understand that simply knowing there was a secret gave her a certain amount of power over them. Blaise looked very pleased with himself, and Draco was developing a rather deep loathing for him. Daphne seemed less thrilled by the new arrangement, and the next day seated herself beside Pansy again. Millicent moved in, and Weatherby took advantage of the empty slot to talk Quidditch with three of his players.

"Poor Professor Snape," Daphne remarked. "He looks so sad."

"You know, Daphne, Dumbledore's still single," Pansy said.

Daphne made a face. "Ew, I like them mature not geriatric, besides he's got a beard."

"You don't like beards?"

"Hate them."

"He does seem a bit less enthusiastic this term," Zabini said, staring up at the staff table.

"Probably had a lousy holiday," said Crabbe, who had not had the best one either.

"He already approved the new practice schedule though," Jonathan said cheerfully.

Weatherby had just begun describing the new training schedule when the arrival of the owls interrupted him. Draco had sent Oberon off with a letter to his mother just before Christmas and had not seen him since. So he had a mixed sense of relief and trepidation, when the owl landed on the table with a letter tied to his leg. Draco opened it while Pansy was distracted with her own package. The letter was three pages long, describing a holiday that Draco believed was largely fictitious and laced with sentences about how he was very cruel not to have joined her for Christmas. When Draco's thumb touched the third parchment, however the real letter appeared.

_Dear Draco,_

_Why didn't you come home for Christmas? And what were you doing at Potter's house? We have assured V. of your good intentions, and he's willing to give you the benefit of the doubt. But you must do something to prove yourself, my love. Stay out of trouble but be ready to act when the time comes._

_Look out for S. I fear the danger that I warned you of may have taken hold of him._

_~N.M._

Draco folded the letter and tucked it back into the envelope. A cold feeling spread through him as he looked at the Slytherins seated around him. It was one of them. One of them was reporting back on him.

It created an icy, hollow sensation to think one or more of his friends had betrayed him, but he was not confident that he would not have done the same if the situation were reversed. He decided the only thing he could do was try not to give the spy anything worth reporting.

He tried to act as though he enjoyed Pansy's clinging, but he found himself watching Hermione even more than usual during classes. Unless he was imagining it (and it would not surprise him if he was), she was looking his way more often as well. These looks were still cold and suspicious, however. Potter and Granger had accepted Persephone, but they had not accepted him along with her.

Draco decided to tell Snape about the part of the letter which pertained to him, because he was pretty sure his mother was right and thought it might be important. Snape simply nodded as though Draco was confirming something he had already suspected. Draco was slightly annoyed to not get more of a reaction but felt too much empathy with Snape to stay that way.

There had been a few odd rumors floating about before Christmas, but since the students had returned, they were gaining full force. Persephone was not fairing well in most of them. The strangest one Draco had heard involved Persephone being some sort of vampire/veela hybrid, but thankfully no one seemed to be taking that too seriously. Most students did however seem to be under the opinion that Persephone and Harry's interest in each other was of the romantic sort. Draco did not have the energy to combat this image. He denied it when asked, but no one believed him. They simply thought he was bitter over having been dumped. No one seemed able to understand what had bridged the gap between Slytherin's darling and Gryffindor's prize son.

Draco might have found the gross misinformation amusing, if Snape's name had not crept into some of the rumors as well. Persephone had not spent much time in Snape's office since Christmas, but the gossip mill suddenly remembered how much time she had been spending in their the previous semester. Snape was not helping matters. His good mood had dissipated over the holidays. Bitter girls who were struck by Potter-fancy themselves had started throwing around words like "slut".

Harry and Persephone seemed completely impervious to the gossip. Draco suspected that Hermione and the Weasleys had something to do with that. They had set up a rather vicious and effective guard around the Potters. Persephone still seemed to have a loyal following among the sixth year girls and surrounded herself with them during meals at the Slytherin table.

Even though he was surrounded by friends, Daco was feeling rather alone and abandon. He stood with the other Slytherins outside the door to the courtyard after classes the following Monday, admiring the fresh snow and the clear sky. The others were talking, but Draco was watching Potter on the far side of the courtyard. Potter seemed to be waiting for someone. His usual entourage was nowhere to be seen. As Draco surveyed the courtyard though, he noticed Lavender Brown and the Patil twins were occasionally looking up and watching Harry as well. _I wonder if he realizes_.

"Here she comes," Alice whispered. Draco looked up to see Persephone hurrying out from the castle. She was clutching her books to her chest and looked like she had been crying or was about to cry. Draco wanted to go to her, but he suspected that she was the one Potter was waiting to meet.

"What's wrong, P?" Pansy called rather loudly. "Did you have a fight with Professor Snape?" Pansy smiled as Persephone stopped in her tracks, but the others seemed unable to find anything funny about the clearly injured look the Silver Child gave them.

Draco felt something come to a boil inside him. "Shut it, Pansy," he snarled at her. "You don't know anything." The wide-eyed stares of the others turned from Pansy to him, and he was vaguely aware that Persephone had slipped away.

Pansy tossed her head in an unconcerned sort of way. "You ought to be nice, Draco, or I won't let you take me to the dance this year."

Draco stopped. "What on earth makes you think I'd want to go to the dance with you?"

Pansy gave him a challenging look. "Who would you take then?"

"I already told you," Draco snapped, giving her an equally defiant look. "It's not my fault if you weren't paying attention."

Pansy's eyes narrowed as she searched her memory. She seemed to decide that he was bluffing, and her features relaxed again. She glanced in the direction that Persephone and Potter had gone and gave Draco a mock sympathetic look. "I don't know how she got her hooks into you so deeply, but she's not coming back to you, Draco. I don't know why you're helping her, but it won't do you any good. The slut's worked her way through Snape, and now she's onto Potter. I think I know why she had to leave her old school now, and she'll been seen for what she is eventually here too. I'm just sorry you got caught up in it." Pansy drew herself up and adjusted her scarf. "I'm still willing to forgive you, when you're ready to come around. I can see you're upset right now, so I'll just see you at dinner." She turned and took a step back towards the school.

"No, you won't," Draco said coolly. Pansy stopped and turned her head to look at him, raising her eyebrow questioningly. "You won't see me at dinner."

"And why's that?"

"Because," Draco said, taking a single step towards her. "You're a conniving, self-absorbed bitch, and I'm sick of you." There was a definite gasp from the other girls and shock on the boys' faces.

Pansy was trembling with anger. "How dare you talk to me like that. My father—"

"Oh wake up, Pansy, your father abandoned you!" He could see that he had cut her and felt a grim satisfaction.

"How dare you," she hissed through clenched teeth. "My father—"

"Hasn't so much as sent you a Christmas Card has he?" Draco said acidly.

"He's busy!"

"Or maybe he's just as fed up with you as I am!"

"Stop it, Draco!" Daphne said, stepping up beside Pansy and clasping her friend's arm. "You have no right to speak to her that way."

"I'll speak to her however I please," Draco retorted.

"Yeah, back off, Greengrass," said Goyle said taking a step closer to Draco.

"Shut it, fatty!" Daphne spat.

"Don't talk to him like that!" Millicent roared, looking every bit as livid as Pansy. Daphne gave Millicent a look of disdain and managed to convey a retort with a tilt of her head.

"Come, Daphne," Pansy said tersely. "Let's go in." She turned on her heels, and she and Daphne marched up to the school together. Alice and Indigo gave the boys uncertain looks before trailing after them.

"Good riddance," Crabbe said, stepping up to Draco's side and crossing his arms over his chest.

o

* * *

o

The rift that formed between the seventh year Slytherins seemed to be of the permanent kind. Blaise decided to sit with the girls, and they fawned on him. Draco suspected this was mainly their attempt at revenge as Daphne and Pansy had never given Blaise so much as the time of day before. Blaise did not seem to mind. Draco was pretty happy with the arrangement as well. Nott was sympathetic but preferred to sit with his girlfriend, so there were only four in their clique now. With just Crabbe, Goyle, and Millicent, it was a bit like being back in third year. Draco suspected Millicent missed the other girls company, but Crabbe and Goyle seemed more than happy with the arrangement. The conversation was infinitely more relaxed.

Persephone seemed to be more worried about the split than Draco was. "I heard what happened," she said that night in the common room. "Are you sure you can't patch it up?"

Draco gave her a patient look. "Maybe if I wanted to, but I don't want to. Didn't you hear what she said about you?"

Persephone frowned. "I got the gist of it. But you've been friends with her a lot longer than you've known me. I don't want to be the reason you split up."

Draco shook his head. "Don't worry about it. It's been a long time coming. You're not the reason. I've just had enough."

Persephone considered him. "Are you sure? Are you sure it's…safe? You're the one who said I should stay on Pansy's good side."

Draco sighed and collapsed back on the couch. "Oh, that's what this is about? For a moment I thought you were worried about me."

Persephone sat down beside him and took his hand. "Of course I'm worried about you. I'm sorry I've been spending so much time with Harry lately. We just have a lot to catch up on. But I miss spending time with you. You're more like my brother than he is, or James ever was."

Draco squeezed her hand and gave her a small smile. "I think Oliver misses you more than I do," he said quietly. This apparently was the wrong thing to say, because Persephone left out a soft gasp and her eyes threatened to fill with tears. "What happened?" he asked, remembering her earlier tears and drawing her a bit closer.

"I went to see him today, and he told me I should forget about him," she sniffed and buried her face on Draco's shoulder. "But I can't, I can't forget. I don't want to." Draco patted her back awkwardly, aware of the blatant stares from others in the common room. "I don't understand. He said he loved me, and then he told me to go away."

_Severus Snape, master of romance_. "It'll be all right," Draco said quietly. "Just give it time."

"I hate time," Persephone whimpered. "I hate it." She recovered though, wiped her eyes, and sat back up. "Have you had any luck with G?" she asked to change the subject.

"Only the bad kind," Draco said.

o

* * *

o

A few days later, Persephone asked Draco to meet her in the library the next Friday. "I think I have an idea that might help both of us," she said but refused to explain any further. Draco wanted to get back in the habit of tutoring sessions with her anyway, so he met her in the library at the requested time.

"So what's this about?" Draco asked after they had secured a table.

"Well, magic caused the problem, so I thought there might be some kind of spell to fix it," Persephone said, looking around. "I suppose I could look myself, but I thought it might be faster if I had help. I asked—oh, here she comes."

"What's _he_ doing here?" Hermione said as she approached their table.

"Oh, hello, Hermione," Draco said brightly as if he had not heard her. So that's what Persephone had meant by helping him out.

"Draco's going to help us look," Persephone said. "He's in on the secret."

Hermione made "humph" noise and sat down.

"I'm really glad you came," Persephone said. "I've heard you're very clever at, well, everything."

Hermione dropped her schoolbooks on the table. She opened one so that they could make a pretense of looking at it. Their conversation dropped to a whisper, which was not too suspicious for a library. "What are we looking for exactly?" Draco tried his best not to look guilty.

"I don't know exactly," Persephone said. He wanted to check and see if any of the other Slytherins were watching. "A spell to make me older or reverse time or something."

There were a few other students in the library, but they were focusing on their own homework, whispering their own conversations. So far no one seemed to have noticed that Draco was sitting with the mudblood he had shown the most disdain for over the past six years. Hermione herself was ignoring Draco and speaking to Persephone as if he was not there.

"Time travel is tricky and very dangerous," Hermione said. "If we could get you back, it might throw things completely off."

"Voldemort could kill you along with the rest of your family," Draco added. It was not a pleasant thought but he wanted her to be realistic about this.

"Say you warned Lily and James about the attack," Hermione continued, not reacting to Draco though he was sure she had heard him. "They escape and survive, but since Harry isn't attacked then Voldemort doesn't lose his powers. Or even if you could resist warning them and just went back to be with your friends. Snape wouldn't have to go look for you, and Dumbledore would lose his spy. Or…"

"I get it," Persephone said. "Bad things happen when you meddle with time." She crossed her arms and settled back in her chair. She tapped her foot, thinking, and Hermione began looking over the page she had open. After a moment, Persephone leaned back into the table and spoke again. "What about the other thing? Something to make me my right age."

"Those do exist, but…" Hermione began.

"Do you remember in fourth year, when the Weasley twins took that Aging Potion to get their names into the Goblet of Fire?" Draco interrupted.

To his surprise and delight, Hermione laughed. "Fred and George grew beards! But it didn't help much."

Persephone's silver eyes looked back and forth at them and grew wider. "I don't want to grow a beard," she said worriedly.

"Of course not," Hermione said, still giggling. "But honestly I don't think they mixed it properly."

"You won't grow a beard," Draco assured her.

"Well, how does an Aging Potion work?" Persephone asked. "Is it difficult?"

"Moderately," Hermione said sobered. Draco noticed she was flicking her eyes occasionally to him now. "But are you sure you want to use magic to work out this problem you're having with Snape? I mean, you missed growing up once, do you really want to do it again?" Persephone looked down at her books glumly. "It's just that you'll be out of school in a year and a half. You can do as you please at that point."

Draco thought Hermione had a point, but Persephone was not willing to give in so quickly. "It's just-" She looked up, her face very somber, her eyes pleading. "Everyone I grew up with is near or in their forties. My mind didn't stop while I was in the painting. I didn't really have any new experiences, but I did a lot of thinking. I don't feel sixteen anymore. I do, but I don't. It's just so unfair! I've spent twenty years wondering if he'd forget about me, if he was still looking for me, or if he had found someone else. Wondering if he felt the same things for me that I did for him. And then I get out, and he's not attached, and he has been looking for me. And he still wants me. I know he does. But we can't be together, because I still look so young.

"And Severus is right, even when I get out of school, I'll still look twenty years younger than him. People will look at us funny. They'll know he was a Professor when I was student, and it could still cause a scandal. Maybe, I wouldn't use an Aging Potion until I got out of Hogwarts, but it's driving me nutty not being able to do something about this." She let out a huff and rested her head on her hand. "I don't really want to skip being twenty, but this would all be so much simpler if we were the same age."

Draco touched her arm to comfort her, but it did not seem to help.

"I wish…" Persephone paused looking slightly guilty. "I wish he were seventeen, and we could try all over again."

Hermione got a curious look as if she were half-remembering something.

"What is it?" Draco asked.

"Maybe he could be seventeen again," she said in such a low whisper that Draco had to strain to hear her. When she saw that both of them were looking at her, Hermione spoke more clearly. "I remember something in Most Potente Potions. I checked it out in my second year for-" she glanced at Draco. "Anyway, it was a sort of fountain of youth potion. I didn't really read into it. It looked ghastly complicated."

"Well, where's that book?" Persephone asked.

"In the restricted section," Draco said. He saw Hermione's surprised look but chose to ignore it. "I've got a copy at home, but it might be hard explaining why I would want it."

"You've got a copy at home!" Hermione repeated. She kept her voice down, but Draco could tell it was a struggle. She sounded almost as awed as indignant.

"We've got a library about a quarter this size at the manor," he said, taking the chance to play on Hermione's love of books. He guessed it worked because her eyes goggled. "It's not an illegal book. Just hard to come by. Anyway, it would probably be easier and faster to get a teacher's note and look at the school's copy."

"Which one of us should get the note?" Persephone asked.

"Maybe all three of us should try," Hermione said. "If we each ask a different professor, we'll stand a better chance. Persephone, I think you have the best chance with Professor Snape."

"I don't think he'll do it," Persephone pouted. "He doesn't want to look like he's doing me favors."

"You're in his Advanced Potions class aren't you?" Persephone nodded. Hermione gave her a "well then" look and Persephone mouthed an "oh".

"I'm in it too," Draco said.

"Yes, but if you both ask him, it will look suspicious."

"I guess I can ask Professor Sinistra," Draco admitted slowly.

"The Astronomy teacher?"

Draco shifted uncomfortably, "I'm her golden boy. She'll do anything if I put enough 'please' and 'thank you ma'am's around it." Hermione rolled her eyes in disgust. Draco decided to point the matter back at her. "Come on, Granger, who do you have in your pocket?"

"Defense Against the Dark Arts would make the most sense after potions class, but Dumbledore would know something is up." It was her turn to shift uncomfortably. "I could probably get a note from Professor Flitwick. He trusts me." She sounded sick to be misusing that trust.

"Look, we're just trying to help Persephone," Draco said. "Nothing underhanded." Hermione did not look comforted, though she did glance guiltily at P.

"Let's meet back here next Friday at the same time," Persephone said.

They agreed to that. Hermione left, and Draco and Persephone headed back to the Slytherin common room.

o

* * *

o

When they met again the next Friday, the girls were empty handed. "I couldn't do it," Persephone said. "I couldn't ask him."

"Me neither," Hermione admitted. "I was hoping one of you two…If you don't have it, I guess I could ask Snape."

Draco gave them both a disgusted look and pulled out his slip from Professor Sinistra.

"How did you manage that?" Hermione asked, sounding more indignant than impressed.

"Teachers like it when you remember their birthday," Draco said. "Point is I got it. I'll be back in a minute." He returned a few minutes later with the library's copy of Most Potente Potions.

Hermione took it from him and quickly looked up the potion. "Here it is. The Younging Potion. Oh my…this has to be most difficult potion I've ever seen."

"Do you think we can do it?" Draco asked.

"Probably," Hermione said. "But it'll take three months at the least. I haven't even heard of some of these ingredients."

"Let me see," Draco said, taking the book from her. "That looks familiar, but this one. We've got the book for three weeks. We'll just have to look this stuff up."

"I can help," Persephone said. "Just tell me where to start."

"Wait," Hermione said. She had taken the book back and examining the next page. "This is no good."

"Why what's wrong?"

"The potion must be drunk within twenty four hours of maturity. It can return the drinker's body to any previous point in time, but every aspect of the drinker will revert to that stage, including their memories and personality." She looked up. "If Snape drinks this and goes back to being seventeen, he'll forget everything that's happened to him since then. He won't remember who he has become or what he went through. He'll lose everything he's learned, everything he is."

"Another dead end," Draco said, closing the book. "I guess we could look for something else." Persephone however pulled the book over to her and opened it again, fingering the pages thoughtfully. "You're not considering it are you?" Draco asked her. "Professor Snape would be gone. It would almost be like killing him."

Persephone winced. "I like him the way he is," she said softly. "But he's not happy. I want to change that for him. I don't want to change him, but he's had so much unhappiness." She pressed her lips together. "Maybe he wouldn't have to go all the way back to seventeen. Maybe I could take an Aging Potion, and we could meet in the middle. Oh, I don't know. That sounds stupid, doesn't it?"

Draco neither nodded nor shook his head. He was thinking about Professor Snape, who he had always liked but would never had described as happy. The man had worn severity as a cloak as long as Draco had known him. It really had not occurred to Draco that Snape _could_ be happy until last term. He certainly was not happy now. Sending Persephone away seemed to have affected him even more than her. He was not angry or even irritable as he usually became when something displeased him. He was distracted, absent, and this worried Draco more than anger would have.

"Maybe we should ask him what he thinks?" Hermione suggested. "It's a pretty drastic thing to do without consulting him."

"She isn't planning on slipping it to him," Draco said. "Are you?" Persephone shook her head.

"She couldn't if she wanted to," Hermione said. "The drinker has to be willing. It requires them to focus on the point in time they want to return to. It would be very hard to trick him into it."

"I wouldn't trick him," Persephone said quickly. "But I don't know if I should ask him about it just yet."

"It would be rather frustrating, if we couldn't figure out how to work it," Draco agreed. "And I think he's got enough on his mind right now. Maybe we should wait and see if this is doable before we ask him."

"I suppose that makes sense," Hermione agreed reluctantly.

They spent the remaining Fridays in January researching the ingredients and processes for the Younging Potion. Draco stopped trying to talk to Hermione during Astronomy, but he felt like the silence between them was an easier one.

o

* * *

o

In February they changed their meetings to Saturday, which led them to collect in the library on Valentine's Day. Draco suspected this was intentional on Persephone's side. She was using the potion and research as an outlet for the feelings that she could not express. He also suspected she was trying to give him an excuse to be with Hermione on the holiday dedicated to romance. Draco thought it was far too corny to make a profession of adoration on such an obvious day, but he could not help making some gesture.

He transfigured a dead branch into a fresh white rose. The color was important. Red was too obvious, too overt. He just wanted to make her wonder a little. He sat back down across from the two girls who were comparing Arithmancy notes. "Happy Valentine's Day," he said, presenting the flower to Hermione. She looked at it with a shocked expression. Her hand lifted mechanically as though to take the flower but paused almost immediately. Her shock turned into a suspicious scowl, and Persephone started giggling furiously.

"Oh, I forgot," Draco said lightly, pretending to be oblivious to Hermione's scowl. "I have one for you as well." He pulled out a second rose from under the table with his free hand presented it to Persephone. She took it immediately with both hands.

"Thank you," she said, putting the rose close to her face and sniffing.

"Thanks," Hermione said coolly. She took her rose with two fingers as though she feared it might be laced with poison. She turned it about suspiciously, and not finding anything wrong, dropped it onto her stack of books. Draco satisfied himself with the small victory that she _had_ taken it. He was in a remarkably good mood. He had even transfigured a rose for Professor Sinistra and blown her a kiss on his way out of the classroom. She had tried to frown unsuccessfully and shook a finger at him.

o

* * *

o

The next weekend Slytherin played Hufflepuff and beat them by a substantial margin. Draco felt a lot better about himself after he caught the Snitch. Indigo risked Pansy's ire long enough to tell him that he was brilliant, and even Persephone put aside her feelings on Quidditch long enough to congratulate him. Pansy and Daphne watched from a corner for most of the after party. Draco was in his favorite spot, surround by admirers, when Pansy decided to step forward. "That was a well played game," she said with a cool smile.

"Yes, it was," Draco returned with a coldly happy smile.

Persephone put her hand on his in what might have been a placating gestured, but Draco wrapped his fingers around hers and smiled a bit more widely at Pansy. She glanced at their hands. Her smile left, and she walked away. Daphne gave them both a slightly baffled look and followed Pansy.

Draco managed to feed off the general good will inspired by the Quidditch win to do what repair he could to Persephone's reputation. He ignored the Harry issue but laughed off the more absurd rumors, particularly the ones closer to the truth.

He felt that he managed to leave the general impression among the Slytherins that, whatever Persephone was doing with Harry, it was part of some game she and Draco had cooked up, which left her free to sit with him now and again at meal time.

o

* * *

o

Persephone had kept her forum going this whole time, though Draco was unsure of how successful it continued to be as he had been avoiding meetings. "I know the forum is a bit public," Persephone conceded in a low voice. "But Harry has this sort of club, and I was wondering if…"

"I'm not interested," Draco cut her off.

"But Draco-"

"Look, I know about the D.A., Persephone," he said. "And if I do, it's possible someone else does. I just can't risk it, until I've figured out who's spying on me."

She crossed her arms and looked rather disappointed. "That's just it. I don't think anyone _is_ spying on you."

"You saw the letters," he said.

"Yes, but that's just Narcissa."

Draco sighed. "Even mothers aren't that omniscient, someone's watching me. Persephone, you have to understand. I don't want to get involved. I don't want to fight the Dark Lord. I just want to live and joining the D.A. would be counterproductive to my personal goals."

"You could help, you know," Persephone told him. "It would mean a lot if you came."

"Which is exactly why I won't come."

Persephone made a few more attempts before dropping the subject.

o

* * *

o

Crabbe and Goyle seemed willing to tolerate Persephone, and Millicent loved having her sit with them. The two girls had begun to whisper like conspirators, when Professor Snape stopped by their group and put one of his hands on the table. He had traded his distant air of late for one of strained patience as he looked at Persephone. "You made friends with a boggart?" he asked in a sharp, measured tone as though fighting a headache.

This question effectively stopped the conversation, and Draco was not the only one giving the two of them his full attention. Persephone smiled sheepishly in response.

Snape drew a breath and looked as though he wanted to start a rebuke but decided it would be fruitless. "In the future would you kindly keep it away from my office," Snape said in the same fighting a massive headache manner.

Persephone winced apologetically. "Sorry." Her expression became mildly perplexed. "She spoke to you then?"

"Yes," Snape said. The words seemed to taste bad to him. "Kagome says the answer to your Harry Potter."

"Really?" said Persephone, her interest clearly piqued.

"Really," Professor Snape said flatly and continued on to the staff table.

"That's good," Persephone said to herself as he left, her brow creasing thoughtfully. "I think that's really good news. I'll have to tell him."

"Tell who?" Draco asked.

"Well, you know who," said Persephone. There was an audible in take of air from Crabbe and Goyle, and Persephone rolled her eyes. "Not _him_. If I meant to say Voldemort, I'll say Voldemort or Voldewart or something, but I'll make myself clear."

Draco felt like he was catching Snape's headache. "Persephone…" he began in an admonishing tone but decided it was best to just change the subject. "What did Snape mean when he said you'd made friends with a boggart?"

"Do you remember the boggart that we met at Halloween?"

"Met?" Draco echoed. He had been trying to push the incident out of his mind.

"Well, encountered," Persephone amended. "I decided to find her later and try to talk to her."

"Her?"

"Oh, well, we're not entirely certain as to the actual gender. Kagome's memories of life are a bit fuzzy, but she looked like me, so she decided to use a girl's name."

"Memories of life?"

"All boggarts were alive at one point," Persephone said. "That _Riddikulus _charm really doesn't do them any favors. It disperses their mental as well as physical presence. They come back together quite confused. We're pretty sure she was Japanese at one point. She looks like me when I go talk to her, that's why she picked the name Kagome."

"Naturally," Draco said, not making much sense out of what Persephone had just said, but Persephone smiled in a satisfied sort of way. Crabbe exchanged a look with Draco that said he thought she was quite mad, and Draco gave him an acknowledging half smile.

o

* * *

o

It had been easy enough to disguise their research attempts into the Younging Potion, as they all had their own Potions projects to research for class. Draco discovered Hermione was not above helping him take items from the Potions cabinet under the pretense that they were needed for their separate experiments. They had divided up the list so that Snape would not become suspicious, but Draco doubted he would have noticed. Snape had drawn further into himself, which several students seemed to find a relief, but it concerned Draco. Just looking at Snape these days made him feel sad, and he could offer no consolation other than to help Persephone.

By the end of February, they had finished their research and collected their ingredients. "It will still take three months," Hermione said. "And that's after we mix it."

"If we time it right," Persephone said. "It will mature right at the end of the semester. I'd have time to talk to him about it."

"Persephone, _where_ are we supposed to be brewing this?" Draco asked. "I'm assuming the Room of Requirement is out." He caught the somewhat startled look Hermione gave him but chose to ignore it.

"Yes," Persephone agreed, not the least bit perturbed. "It's out, but I think I know the place." She led them to a second floor bathroom with an out of order sign hung on it.

"Isn't this the bathroom where…" Draco began.

"Yes, it is," Hermione answered before he finished the question. "But it's sealed," she added as Persephone tried the handle.

The door offered no resistance however. "Well, it was sealed when I found it last term," Persephone said as she pushed the door open. "I guess no one's checked it since I got it open."

Hermione checked the hall and then hurried them all inside. "Persephone, why were you breaking into sealed restrooms?" she asked suspiciously.

"To visit Myrtle, of course," Persephone said quietly. In a louder voice she called. "Myrtle? Are you in here?"

A ghost girl in pigtails poked her head through one of the stall door. "Persephone, is that you? I thought maybe you'd forgot me again," she said in a rather sniffy voice. "You brought a boy in here?"

"Hello, Myrtle," Hermione said dryly.

"Hmph," Myrtle said, turning up her nose at Hermione. "I know that _you_ forgot all about me." She glided over to Draco and gave him a coy smile. "I've seen you before."

Draco was about to ask where Myrtle had seen him, when Persephone interrupted him. "Myrtle darling, I need to ask you a big favor. You see, we need a safe place to brew a potion, and I was wondering if we could do it in here. I thought maybe you could keep an eye on it for me."

"I suppose I could," Myrtle said vaguely and then gave a dramatic sigh. She looked at Hermione. "Brewing more polyjuice?"

"Um, no," Hermione said nervously. "Something different this time."

"It's something for me, Myrtle," Persephone said. "If you can keep a secret, I'll tell you all about it."

"Why were you brewing polyjuice?" Draco asked Hermione in a whisper.

"That's none of your business," she hissed back at him. Draco continued to look at her curiously.

"Of course I can keep a secret," Myrtle said loftily. "Who would I tell anyway. No one ever comes in here. They don't even clean anymore. Look at the mirrors, they're all dirty."

"Poor Myrtle," Persephone said sympathetically. "Let me give it a try. _Scourgify!_" The line of mirrors above the sink shattered spectacularly. Draco and Hermione raised their arms to shield their faces, though none of the shards made it that far. Persephone let out an angry grunt and stomped her foot.

"OH! I'm sorry, Myrtle. I'm so sorry! It had been behaving lately." Draco and Hermione had been momentarily stunned by the unexpected result of what was normally a cleaning spell. Persephone was turning pink with a mixture of anger and embarrassment. "Stupid wand," she said, letting the offending item drop to the floor, and gripped her hair with her hands so that her arms hid her face.

"It's okay," Hermione said carefully. "I can fix it."

"I always make a mess of things," Persephone continued dramatically as though she had not heard Hermione. "I thought it was working." From the choked way she was sniffing, Draco decided she was crying and put his arms around her shoulders.

"It's all right," he said gently. "Hermione can fix it." He gave Hermione a questioning glance. She nodded and walked along the line of mirrors, casting "_Reparo_."

Myrtle watched the scene with what struck Draco as mild amusement. "Well, at least they're clean now," she said when Hermione had finished repairing the shattered mirrors. Hermione sighed and returned the questioning glance Draco had given her, her eyes indicating Persephone. Draco shrugged. Persephone was still hiding her face, though her breathing indicated that she had calmed.

"What was that?" he asked with a chuckle, hoping it would help to make light of the whole thing. He pushed back Persephone's shoulders so she would have to look at them.

"I'm sorry," Persephone sniffed and rubbed her eyes. "It's my wand. I told you it was temperamental, but it had been behaving lately. I thought it would stop doing things like that. Oh! You both must think I'm such a baby." As though to prove this point, she gave another grunt of frustration and fell down to a kneeling position.

"Nonsense," Myrtle said, suddenly looking sympathetic. "You're just upset. It's always been worse when you're upset."

"She's right," Draco said encouragingly, though this was all new to him. "You just take a minute. Hermione and I can set up." He looked inquiringly at Hermione, and she nodded.

"Sure, we're supposed to be the experts anyway," Hermione said with a forced laughed.

Persephone made a few weak protests, but Myrtle distracted her. Draco and Hermione set up the cauldron and started measuring out the first ingredients. Within a few minutes, Myrtle had Persephone laughing about something and chatting contently. Draco could not help thinking about the story he had told Pansy and wondering if there had been a bit more truth to it than he intended. He wanted reassurance from Hermione that they were doing the right thing, but her brow was creased in a thoughtful way and her eyes were flicking from her work to Persephone. When her eyes turned to him, she studied him for a moment, but nothing in her expression encouraged him. "Could you pass the moon dew?" he asked, mainly because he felt like he needed an excuse for having looked at her.

Hermione handed him the small bottle and finally gave voice to the question that had been forming on her lips for the past several minutes. "Why are you doing this?" she asked Draco in a whisper. "Why are you helping Persephone?" Draco thought he could read other unspoken questions but decided to stick to the ones actually presented.

Besides it was a fair question and one he had given quite a bit of thought to over the past few weeks and had a ready answer. "Because I believe true love is a rare and precious thing," he said and glanced at Persephone who had Myrtle giggling now. "However disturbing a form it takes." When he looked back at Hermione, he thought, she looked skeptical. "Is that so hard to believe?"

She raised her eyebrows in a way that said _yes, very_. "It's just weird hearing you talk about true love."

"Why?" Draco asked. "You don't think I know about love?"

Hermione seemed to consider that. "No, it's just strange to hear you talk about it. A little hard to think that's the only reason."

Draco shrugged. "I like Snape, and I like Persephone. Why are you here then?"

Hermione face softened as the question was turned back on her. "I guess I feel guilty," she said. "It wasn't fair what happened to her, and I didn't help. I was so sure she trying to hurt Harry. I was paranoid, and if I hadn't jumped to conclusions…I guess I'm punishing myself."

Hermione was avoiding looking directly into his eyes, but Draco looked at hers steadily. "Is it that bad for you? Associating with Slytherins?" _With me?_

"No," Hermione said, shaking her head. Her tone conveyed that he had completely missed the point. "I just meant I want to help her. To make up for the trouble. I can't help Snape. He won't even accept an apology, so I'm helping Persephone."

"I'm sure she appreciates the help," Draco said. "But you shouldn't be too hard on yourself. It's an easy thing…to be wrong about people."

Hermione looked at him, considering. "I suppose it is," she said. She took a moment to search through the ingredients before choosing a small pouch. "I take it Persephone told you about the D.A."

"She tried," Draco said. "I'd already figured out that you were meeting again."

Hermione made a tsking sound. "People aren't as careful about secrecy since the administration isn't fighting us anymore," she said. She seemed to take their lack of discretion as a personal affront. "I suppose it doesn't matter. Harry thought Persephone would bring you in. He was a little surprised when you didn't come."

"Was he?" Draco asked. For some reason it lit a small ball of warmth inside him to know that Potter has expected him.

Hermione gave an affirmative nod. She dumped a packet of baby teeth into a mortar. They made tinkling sound as they hit the bowl, and Hermione made a disgusted noise. "I don't even want to think about where these come from. I was honestly shocked that Professor Snape had them in the store cupboard."

Draco laughed at her. "You make it sound so underhanded. Nothing shady about buying baby teeth. That's how little wizards get their pocket money." Draco poked his finger at the contents of the mortar. "Actually that one there looks like it might be mine," he said with a grin. Hermione smirked, or grimaced, he was not sure which. She sat with her pestle hovering over the mortar, apparently disgusted by the thought of having to crush human bones into powder.

"I can do that," Draco said, reaching for the mortar and pestle. Hermione gave them up willingly. Their hands brushed in the exchange causing a peculiar sensation in the area of Draco's stomach. Hermione seemed unaffected. She wiped her hands perfunctorily on her skirt and reached for the next ingredient.

"Why don't you come?" Hermione asked. "I think Harry would like to see you join."

"What about you?" Draco asked, trying not to sound too interested.

"Well, yes, of course, I suppose, I'm not so sure," she let her words tumble over each other. She had gone back to not looking at him. "I spent all last year trying to get a Slytherin to join. But in your case, I thought it might create a conflict of interests." She gave him a shifty glance, looking for his reaction.

Draco looked down. He pressed the pestle into the mortar, grinding mechanically. His stomach did another happy little flip at the thought that Hermione understood him, and then quickly sank as the counter thought that she probably assumed she was working for the Death Eaters settled over him. "I'm not working with Death Eaters," he said to clarify.

"Then why won't you join the D.A.?" she asked.

"What's the point?" Draco said. "You don't really want me there. I don't really want to get involved."

"Well, if Persephone's right, not being involved isn't really going to be option for long is it?" Hermione said huffily.

"Think I'll give it a shot anyway," Draco muttered. "Figure I'm safe at Hogwarts until the school year ends, then I'll run for it." Hermione was looking at him straight now. Her eyes wider than usual as though what he had said surprised her. "I never claimed to be brave. That's you Gryffindors' job, right? I just want to stay out of the fighting. It's not just about me. He has my—What?"

"Do you mean Persephone didn't tell you?" Hermione asked in a shocked whisper.

"Tell me what?"

"I thought she would. I was certain she would have told _you_ about it."

Draco was starting to feel annoyed. "Tell me what?"

"She had a flash, a sort of vision," Hermione said seriously. "She thinks Voldemort is going to attack the school."


	15. The Family Ties

**Disclaimer:** This story is based on the Harry Potter novels written by J.K. Rowling. All characters created by J.K. Rowling are owned by J.K. Rowling. The few characters created by me (i.e. Persephone, Hotchet, Kagome…) belong to me, but are available for use in other fics as long as I get credited as their creator. None of us are making any money off this and no infringement is intended.

* * *

o

**Level 1.6: The Family Ties**

Harry had always assumed that finding his family would mean big changes for him, a new home, a new future, someone to protect him. But Persephone was the one without a home, while he at least had Grimmauld place. And she needed his protection far more than he needed hers. As far as his future went, nothing had changed. He was still the one who had to kill Voldemort.

When Ron and Hermione reemerged from Dumbledore's office, the four of them descended the steps. Harry felt like he should say something, but he was still trying to work through everything in his head. Persephone seemed more interested in talking to Hermione at the moment than him, so they promised to meet in the morning. Persephone and Hermione disappeared into the girls bathroom while Harry and Ron walked back up to the boys dormitory to check the map.

Even though the other boys they shared a room with had gone home for Christmas, Harry and Ron discovered they were not alone when they reached their dormitory. A small creature with pointy ears and a long nose met them with a squeal and a bow. "Harry Potter, sir! Mr. Ron Weasley, sir! Dobby is so happy to be seeing yous, sir."

"Dobby?" Harry said, breaking into a smile. "What are you doing here?"

"Dobby is wanting to wish you a Merry Christmas, sir," the elf said. Harry took a seat on the bed. With all that had happened, he had forgotten it was still Christmas. "Dobby would have been coming to see you this morning, but Professor Dumbledore is sending Dobby on a mission and I is just got back, sir."

"What sort of mission?" Ron asked eagerly.

"Well, I can't say exactly, Mr. Weasley sir," Dobby said in a low voice. "I think Dobby is supposed to be staying secret about it. Dobby may be a free elf, but he has a lot of respect for Professor Dumbledore and keeps his secrets sir." Dobby looked about himself shiftily and added. "But Dobby had hoped never to be seeing his old home again sir."

"He sent you to spy on the Malfoys?" Harry surmised.

"Dobby is not _saying_ so, sir," Dobby said in a rather lofty manner. Harry laughed.

"Hey!" Ron said as though he had had a burst of inspiration. "Dobby, I bet you know the dirt on Malfoy. You over that head banging thing yet? I mean err—Draco Malfoy's been a bit funny, and I think he might be up to something."

"I think he's been looking a bit ill, actually," said Harry. "But we need to figure out if that's an act. If he's working with the Death Eaters or against them. So if there's anything you could tell us—?"

The house-elf's reservation about spilling Dumbledore's secrets did not seem to extend to Draco Malfoy. "Dobby is not trusting him at all, Harry Potter," he said in an eager whisper as though this was something he had been wanting to say for quite some time. "He has been asking questions, sir. About Hermione Granger, sir."

"What sort of questions?" Ron asked in a startled voice. "Who's he asking?"

"Draco Malfoy has been asking the house-elves, sir, but Dobby is not letting them tell him anything. Dobby is not going to let them help his old masters in their nasty plots," Dobby said resolutely. "Draco Malfoy was asking about S.P.E.W., Mr. Weasley sir, but I don't think that's what he really wanted. He knew Dobby was watching him sir. He knew Dobby wouldn't let him hurt Hermione Granger."

"If he tries to lay a hand on Hermione, I'll break his arm," Ron promised. "Good work, Dobby." Dobby beamed at him.

"Hey, Dobby," Harry said as the thought came to him. "Did you know about my aunt Persephone? Do you know where Malfoy found her?"

"I am hearing she is back, Harry Potter sir," said Dobby. "And I am hearing that Draco Malfoy is bringing her back, but I is not knowing from where."

"What do you make of her, Dobby?"

Dobby looked reluctant again. "I remember she was very kind to us house-elves, Harry Potter sir, but she is always been keeping bad company, sir. I am not sure what to be thinking about her, sir."

"Same as us," said Harry. He opened his trunk to fish the map out. He waited until Dobby had gone before he and Ron actually used the map.

"Looks like Hermione's coming back," said Ron.

"And there's Persephone," said Harry, pointing to the dot neatly labeled _Persephone Potter _heading back towards the Slytherin common room. "Guess that proves it."

o

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o

Persephone joined Harry after breakfast, and they decided to take a walk on the grounds to avoid the confused stares of the other students. Ron and Hermione agreed to take charge of the D.A.'s research effort, so that Harry could spend some time getting to know his aunt. They did not tell the other members who Persephone was, only that she was on their side and Dumbledore had vouched for her. Ginny peppered them with both verbal and nonverbal I-told-you-so's and demanded to know when Persephone would be coming to D.A. meetings.

Harry was not ready to tell Persephone about the D.A. however. He was willing to accept that she was his aunt, but he would never have told his other aunt about the D.A. He still had too many unanswered questions, and even Dumbledore, who knew who she was all along, had called her unpredictable.

Persephone for her part seemed to forget that she had ever been angry with him. She talked in an almost dizzying stream as they walked down to the lake. She found everything about Harry incredibly interesting and asked him all sorts of questions. Not the questions people normally ask him about his scar and his encounters with Voldemort or even his Quidditch exploits. Persephone wanted to know what his favorite classes were and whether he preferred chocolate or pepper imps. She was excited to learn that he was Parselmouth. "You can talk to snakes? That's really fantastic!"

"It's the sign of a dark wizard," said Harry.

Persephone raised her eyebrows. "Harry, are you a dark wizard?"

"Well, no-"

"Then it's obviously _not_ a sign of a dark wizard, is it?" Harry had to admit she had a point. "I think the ability to communicate is usually a positive thing," Persephone continued. "And I've always liked snakes. It's not their fault some people use them for dark magic."

She was extremely curious about his Muggle grammar school and absolutely outraged to hear that he had spent much of his childhood sleeping in a cupboard.

"That's horrible! That's really horrible. I don't care what she went through. That's a terrible thing to do to anyone, but your own family!" Persephone continued on like this for a good three minutes, before pausing for breath. "It's not like you had anything to do with it. You were just a baby!"

Harry could not help smiling at her tirade. Her indignation on his behalf made his childhood in the cupboard seem no less unfair, but somehow it made him feel less angry about it.

"What about your teachers? Didn't you ever tell any of them? Didn't they ever do anything?" Persephone asked in a concerned tone as though this was still a fresh issue that needed to be worked out.

"I don't think it ever occurred to me," Harry said. "I did have one teacher in third grade that was really nice to me. I remember she asked me about my clothes once, why they never seemed to quite fit. Looking back, I bet she would have listened if I had told her, but I didn't want her to know at the time. I suppose I worried she might think less of me if she knew that I slept in a cupboard."

He saw a tear run down Persephone's cheek and stopped walking. "It's all right now," he said. "It's all in the past. I don't live like that anymore. I've had a proper bedroom for years now, and I don't have to go back to the Dursleys' anymore."

"You never should have had to go there in the first place!" she cried and continued walking as though she needed to continue the momentum. "It's all my fault. I should have been there to take care of you."

"How is it your fault?" Harry asked. "You didn't ask to be shut up in that painting, did you?"

"No," Persephone said pitifully. "But I was stupid. I should have been paying more attention."

"Can't you tell me what happened?" Harry tried, but she shook her head. He took another approach. "Can you tell me how Malfoy rescued you then?"

"Only that he found me and figured out how to get me out of the painting and smuggled me back here," she said. Talking about Draco seemed to cheer her up. "He's quite clever, you know. It's been rough for him. We had to travel Muggle style, and I don't think he liked it very much."

Harry chuckled at the thought of Draco Malfoy traveling 'Muggle style'. "You were the girl in the Quibbler article," he surmised.

Persephone nodded. "We spent the night in the hotel. Bad bit of luck that we were seen, but I guess we stuck out a bit. Draco had his broom with him." Harry choked down another laugh. "We tried to find you first. That's why he took me by your house. I don't think your cousin liked me very much."

Harry had an image of Draco Malfoy walking through Little Whinging with his broomstick slung over his shoulder and banging on the Dursleys' front door. The image was simultaneously entertaining and worrisome. "Persephone, how do you know Malfoy was acting on his own? How do you know that he's not working with the Death Eaters?"

Persephone gave Harry a serious look. "I have a lot of faith in Draco. He gave up everything to bring me here. I trust him completely."

Harry wanted to argue the point, but he thought they had been getting along so far and did not want the afternoon to end in a row. "What was it like? To be trapped in that portrait?" he asked instead.

"Boooorrring," she said with a twisty sort of slump at the knees. "Ever so dull. It was like being in box with a window, but I was stuck up in an attic with sheet over me for most of it, so there wasn't even anything interesting to look at."

"I can't imagine. Didn't you get hungry?" asked Harry.

"Never," said Persephone, straightening up and shaking her head. "I never felt hungry or tired or anything. I guess it was part of the magic of the painting. Nothing about me changed physically. I guess it's a good thing I'd eaten not too long before and didn't have to go to the bathroom or anything. Twenty years like that would have been absolutely miserable. I might have gone mad."

"Please don't take this the wrong way," said Harry. "But why didn't you go mad?"

"I think I might have for a little while," said Persephone. "I don't know. I didn't really have a way to measure time, so I kept hoping someone would find me soon. Maybe in time for the dance. It was going to be my first one, and I wanted to go so badly. Severus had just asked me, and I was so excited."

"Snape asked you to a dance," said Harry, feeling slightly disgusted. "I thought you said that you and he were just friends."

"We were," she said looking slightly evasive. "But I liked him lots, and I was hoping…I went through that dance so many times in my head. Pictured it everyway it could possibly go. I think that's what kept me sane. Not just the dance, but daydreaming. I just sort of lived inside my head. I imagined what sort of life I might be having. Sometimes I fell into my daydreams so deeply I forgot where I was and everything seemed all right. I'd come to every now and again and remember, but I'm sure I looked awfully dull much of the time. I thought I might be dreaming the first time I heard Draco. Took me a bit before I thought he might be real."

"I'm sorry," Harry said, not entirely sure why he was apologizing.

"It's all right," Persephone said, taking his hand. "It's all in the past."

Harry had observed Persephone enough to know that she liked to touch people, but he was still unprepared for how much Persephone wanted to touch him. The Dursleys had never been affectionate with Harry. Hermione and Mrs. Weasley had hugged him on occasion. Other friends had patted his shoulder or back as the moment called for. But those touches had always been infrequent and reserved. Persephone waited for no occasion. Now that her secret was out, she touched Harry as often as he would let her. She kept her hand on his arm while they walked and hugged him at random moments. He did not dislike her attention, but he thought it would take some getting used to.

He was starting to understand how embarrassed Malfoy had felt when Persephone made these displays of affection in public and why he never rebuked her for them. What he still did not understand was whether Malfoy actually deserved this affection.

o

* * *

o

Harry thought he was most likely to get a straight answer from Malfoy if he cornered him alone. Malfoy skipped breakfast the next day, but he appeared for lunch. Harry waited for him to leave, asked Hermione to distract Persephone, and followed Draco. He waited until they had reached an empty hall before calling out to him.

"Malfoy! Hey, Malfoy!"

Draco stopped and turned around with a resigned look on his face.

"Persephone told me that you were the one who rescued her," said Harry. He was watching Malfoy for a reaction, but the pale boy just looked tired, as though he expected Harry to say exactly what he was saying and was simply waiting for him to finish. "She said you tried to bring her to me which is why you were at Privet Drive. Why didn't you tell me that?"

Draco looked away. "I'm not looking for thanks," he drawled.

"I wasn't trying to thank you," Harry said stiffly. Malfoy frowned and looked at Harry again. "I want to know what you're up to."

Draco looked annoyed. "It's all part of this wonderfully sinister plot I've concocted. So brilliant, even I don't understand it."

Harry knew Draco was attempting humor, but he wondered if there was some serious truth behind the words all the same. "I don't understand it either."

Draco's manner went from annoyed to exasperated. "For pity's sake, you Gryffindors wouldn't know sarcasm if it walked up, shook your hand, and introduced itself."

Harry was mildly exasperated himself. "Malfoy, you wouldn't know how to not be sarcastic, if I had Hermione write out instructions for you."

Bizarrely, his comeback seemed to have a calming effect on Malfoy. "What do you want, Potter?"

"An explanation," said Harry. "I am grateful that you saved Persephone. That is I would be if I were sure that's what happened. How do I know this isn't some ploy to gain my trust?"

"Do you trust me?" Draco asked, raising his eyebrows.

"No," said Harry.

"Then it wasn't a very good ploy was it?" Malfoy said coolly.

Harry had to admit he had a point. "That's the part that confuses me," said Harry. "If you wanted me to trust you, why wait so long? Why didn't you tell me what was going on yourself?"

"You said it yourself," Draco said. "You don't trust me. If I had told you who Persephone was, would you have believed me?" Harry had to admit the he probably would not have. "Didn't think so."

Harry examined Draco. "That still doesn't tell me what you want. How do I know you're not working for Voldemort?"

Draco pulled up his sleeves and showed Harry the white of his forearms.

"All that tells me is that you haven't taken the mark," said Harry.

"Good point," Draco said flatly and pulled his sleeves back down. "If you don't trust me, and you don't trust Persephone, then I guess you don't know I'm not working for him. But I can tell you what I want." Draco took a few steps to close the distance between them. He was taller than Harry, and this forced Harry to look up at him. "I want out of it. I don't want to work for you, and I don't want to work for him. All I want is out of this whole bloody mess."

Harry instinctively wanted to step back, but he did not want Malfoy to think he was intimidated. He stood his ground and met Draco's grey eyes. The wild idea grabbed him that he might be able to use Legilimency. "Where's Voldemort?" he asked. He tried to touch Malfoy's mind, but all he met was walls. Malfoy looked down at Harry wide eyed, and Harry got the distinct impression that Malfoy knew exactly what he was trying to do. He did not look angry however, just surprised, perhaps a little amused. It annoyed Harry that he almost saw a touch of pity in Malfoy's expression.

"I already told you all I could," Draco said softly. "But even if I spelled it out for you, it wouldn't do you any good. I'm not going to be your spy, Potter. I said I want out, not in more deeply. You've got your aunt back. Be happy with that." Draco broke eye contact and stepped past Harry. Harry let him go. He watched Malfoy's back, wondering when and why he had learned Occlumency.

Malfoy stopped after five steps and turned around. "Persephone has a bit of an issue with animals so don't be stupid and try make her hold Granger's cat or something."

"I know," said Harry, a bit confused by the change in his tone.

Draco nodded, paused, and added. "And she's a bit sensitive about her hair, so I'd be careful how you talk about it...and I think she has a myrtlap allergy, so no potions with the essence in it."

Harry smirked and crossed his arms. "Do I need to take her on walks and check for flees?"

Draco scowled. "Just take care of her, Potter."

Harry softened in spite of himself. "You really like her, huh?"

"I like her a hell of a lot more than I like you," Draco said.

Harry smiled. "Funny, I could say the same."

"Cute," Draco muttered. He turned his back on Harry and walked away.

o

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o

Harry was not sure exactly what about the conversation with Malfoy had struck him, but he was left with the strong conviction that Draco Malfoy was no longer his enemy. He was not ready to go so far as to call him a friend or even an ally. Logically, he thought he could still make a very good case for not trusting Malfoy. Even so, he was unable to shake the feeling that a peace had been made.

Ron clearly was not sharing this feeling of goodwill. Harry did not try to dissuade him. Hermione seemed to have lost confidence in her reservations, and Harry thought it was prudent for at least one of them to be voicing suspicions.

He felt a little bad for having abandoned the D.A. for Ron and Hermione to manage, so he went to check on their progress a few days before term started. He made his excuses to Persephone and made his way up to the Room of Requirement to find it nearly empty. The Patil twins were sorting through a pile of Daily Prophets.

"Ron said he wanted everyone to get some field practice," Padma explained.

"I think he just wanted to have a snowball fight," said Parvati.

"Annie and Ginny were getting a bit stir crazy," added Padma. "I'm glad for the quiet."

"You're not the only one," Parvati said pointing to a pile of cushions in the corner of the room. Hermione was curled on top of them. Her face was hidden by a mass of bushy hair, but from her breathing, she was fast a sleep. The Dark Arts Outsmarted lay open beside her where it had fallen out of her hands.

"She's been staying up late reading even when she gets back to the dorm," Parvati whispered. "I think she's trying to find a way to end the war before classes start up again."

Harry shook his head in a bemused sort of way and dropped on the cushion pile beside Hermione. He pushed the hair back out of her face and shook her shoulder gently. "Hey."

Hermione stirred groggily and then sat up with a gasp. "Did I fall asleep?"

Harry grinned at her. "Yes." The Patils smirked at them and looked away. Harry lowered his voice. "I thought you were going to sleep over the holidays."

"Yes, but I didn't mean to do it here," Hermione said rubbing her eyes.

"Apparently you didn't mean to do it in your dorm room either," Harry said, keeping his voice low and his tone light. Hermione just blinked at him curiously. "Parvati told me you've been staying up. You can't keep this up, Hermione. You've got to sleep."

"I sleep."

"Not enough."

She gave him a stubborn look, so he decided to use stronger tactics. "Hermione, you have to start sleeping seven hours a night, or I'll kick you out of D.A."

"You can't kick me out of the D.A.!" Hermione said indignantly.

"Can so," said Harry. "I'm the leader. We voted. Seven hours."

"Six."

"Eight."

"You said seven! You can't go up."

Harry raised his eyebrows. "You want to go for nine?"

"Fine, seven," Hermione snapped. "Though I'd like to see you try to get into the girls dorm to check."

"Don't have to," said Harry attempting to look cocky. "Got Parvati and Lavender to do that…and the map."

"The map won't tell you if I'm sleeping," said Hermione.

"Ah, the map holds many secrets…"

"Shut up," Hermione said, slapping his shoulder with the back of her hand but smiling a bit as she did so.

"I'm serious though," Harry added. "I need you sharp. Won't do me a bit of good if you nod off in the middle of a Death Eater attack."

Perhaps Hermione took his threat seriously, finally saw the logic behind his concern, or perhaps she did not want to be teased for falling asleep in the Room of Requirement again, but Parvati reported that she had been submitting to her new sleep schedule. Harry thought she looked the better for it in her waking hours.

Harry was ready to return to his normal routine when the holidays ended, but it was still a reminder that the clock was ticking down to his last days at Hogwarts. Between Quidditch, N.E.W.T. workloads, and catching up the D.A., it was difficult making time to meet with Persephone, but she sought him out when she could. They were able to exchange friendly moments in the hall between classes and around meals. This was raising quite a few eyebrows, particularly after Persephone met him once with a running hug and several times insisted on holding his hand while they spoke. Harry was quite used to people being confused about his love life—assuming he had one for example—he forced himself to see the humor in the situation. Persephone seemed absolutely oblivious to the rumors.

He set aside some time to take another walk with her after a couple of weeks had passed and waited to meet her in the courtyard after classes. Persephone was later than he had expected, but Harry did not mind. He had brought _Life of the Auror _with him and was trying to make it through _Chapter Four: Keeping Your Focus_. He was distracted by the scene beyond the walls of the courtyard. It was wrapped in white like a Christmas card. The trees of the Forbidden Forest were heavy with ice and snow. With some effort he pulled his eyes away.

Across the courtyard, Harry saw Persephone hurrying out from the castle. She was clutching her books to her chest and looked like she had been crying or was about to cry. Harry walked forward to meet her.

A gaggle of Slytherins was waiting by the door to the courtyard.

"What's wrong, P?" Pansy Parkinson called. "Did you have a fight with Professor Snape?" Pansy seemed to expect a laugh from this, but the other Slytherins just stared at her wide-eyed.

Harry opened his mouth to tell her off, but it was Draco's voice that came out. "Shut it, Pansy," Malfoy snarled at her. "You don't know anything."

Persephone glanced at them, then turned her eyes toward the courtyard. She spotted Harry and ran towards him. Pansy and Draco got into an argument, and Harry led Persephone away. "Do they always tease you like that?" Harry asked. He was feeling very defensive of Persephone. She was his aunt, but the right age to be a little sister. He wanted to step into his father's role of big brother.

"No, it's just Pansy," Persephone said sniffing. "And just recently." There was a tear rolling down her cheek, and she wiped it away with her sleeve. "I wouldn't let her get to me, but she's right."

"What? You had a fight with Snape?"

"Not exactly, he just told me I couldn't come to his office so much anymore." She rubbed her entire forearm across her eyes. When, she dropped it, the tears had been wiped off, but her face looked a bit red. She exhaled, which was visible in the cold air. "He said I should forget about him, look at boys my own age."

"I think that's good advice," Harry said, trying to sound older and wiser. "I'm sure there are loads of boys who would like to take you out."

"You just don't like the idea of Snape as an uncle," she said.

"True," he said. "But you're young. I don't think you should settle on anybody just yet. Forget about Snape for a minute, is there anyone else who catches your fancy."

Persephone sniffed again and tilted her head to the side. "Well, Draco Malfoy's pretty good looking, and I do owe him for rescuing me this summer."

"UGH!" Harry squealed, his face twisting into a look of horror. "What are trying to do to me?"

Persephone eyed him mischievously, then burst out into a fit of laughter. "Oh, very funny," Harry snapped. Persephone bumped him playfully.

"Oh, lighten up, Harry," she said. "Draco's not that bad, and anyway you're missing the point."

"Not that bad? He tried to kill me last year!"

"Well, it didn't work, did it?"

"Why does everyone keep brushing that off?" Harry wondered in exasperation.

"I'm not," Persephone apologized. "Draco told me about it, and I think he's sorry. He doesn't want to try again anyway."

"Oh," Harry said sarcastically. "Well, that makes everything all better."

"I know it doesn't, Harry." Persephone touched his arm. "But Draco's trying to sort himself out. It's hard and confusing. I know it's not easy on you either, but if you could give him another chance."

"I don't trust him," Harry insisted.

"I don't expect you to," Persephone soothed. "I don't expect you to trust me either. Trust has to be earned, and you don't know me. Not really. Not yet."

"I think I trust people a little too easily," she confided. "It's come back and bit me pretty hard."

Harry pushed back a few strands back from her face. He wanted to assure her that he did trust her and that she could trust him. She was family after all. But, she was also right. Real trust would take time. Too many things about her were a mystery. Too many things still bothered him.

She smiled shyly at his touch, then looked down and clapped her hands together. "But the _point_ is that I don't need _a boyfriend_. I want Severus."

"But why?" Harry groaned, trying not to sound too disgusted. "He's old and crabby."

"He's not that old. He was only one year above me in school." She held up her index finger for emphasis. "And he's only thirty-seven now."

"He's only thirty-seven?" That should not have surprised Harry. He had known Snape went to Hogwarts the same year as his father. But Harry's parents were forever young in his photographs. And there was something worn about Snape that made him seem much older.

"He's been through a lot. If you had been through what he has, then you'd be crabby too." Persephone kicked up some snow with her shoe. "And a lot of it was because of me."

They had reached the far end of the courtyard. They paused there, and Harry stuck his hand in his pockets for warmth. He wanted to change the subject. "Can I ask you something?"

She nodded.

"Why did that boggart turn in to you on Halloween? Was the secret you were keeping just that you were my aunt?"

"It's not just that," said Persephone looking down at her shoes. Harry waited for more of an answer. Apprehension threatened to spill over him. "Everyone tells me secrets. I'm not sure why, maybe it's part of the whole silver child thing. Most of them are the silly kind, nothing scary, but people tell me a lot of big ones too. Secrets that might cause trouble if they came out in the wrong way. I know I talk too much. Normally I don't try to hide much about myself. So I'm always worried, always terrified I'm going to let something out at the wrong time or not tell it at the right time."

"Oh," said Harry. Understanding her fear made him like Persephone a little better.

"I think it may have worked out in the long run," Persephone continued. "Kagome was really happy about it. She hasn't been able to talk to anyone in ages."

"Whose Kagome?" Harry asked.

Persephone pursed her lips, looking like she may have just spilled one of those secrets she was worried about. "It's the boggart's name."

"The boggart has a name?"

"Well, I got to thinking about it," Persephone went on quickly. "And I thought how dreadful it must be always turning into some scary monster, and not ever being able to talk to anyone. And she couldn't pull the secrets straight out of my head, so I went back to talk to her. Or it, or he, we're not really sure about the proper gender, but since she looked like me, she used a girl's name. It's really hard being a boggart, having to feed on fear and creep about it in the dark. And you can't talk so you can't tell anyone about it. Only thing you can do is try to scare them. But once she realized she couldn't scare me off, Kagome was actually quite friendly."

Harry stared at Persephone with a dropped jaw. "You made friends with a boggart?" He felt a flash of realization as to what it must have been like for his father to have a sister like this. Chatting up future Death Eaters, making friends with poltergeists and ghouls. This was the kind of girl for whom they made warnings about strangers with candy.

Persephone shrugged. Her guilty face showing she knew it was not the safest thing to do. "Well, she was lonely."

"Are you just naturally attracted to dark things?" Harry asked. "Is that why you got in Slytherin?"

"Oh, no," she said. "I wanted to be in Slytherin. Well, not Slytherin in particular, but definitely not in Gryffindor."

Harry was shocked. "Why not? My father…James was in Gryffindor."

"That's exactly why," Persephone said. "James was always teasing me. He kept telling me that when I went to Hogwarts everyone would make fun of me because of my hair and eyes. I think Mama and Papa were expecting me to go into Gryffindor, but I thought it would be worse if I was in the same house as James. I'd never get away from him. When I went up to put on the sorting hat. James and his friends started singing 'Silver child with hair quite wild'. McGonagall shushed them, but I just felt awful embarrassed. I put the sorting hat on my head and just kept thinking 'not Gryffindor, not Gryffindor, not Gryffindor'. It felt like forever, but the hat finally said 'Slytherin!'

"I was so relieved. James looked shocked. Then all the Slytherins started singing the 'Silver Child' charm, but the way they did it was different. It was like they were proud to get me. And I felt so happy. James said they did it to spite him, but everyone was so kind to me. None of them made fun. And after that, Lucius looked out for me. He wouldn't let James tease me as much. And once, he took me under his wing, well he was really popular, so all the other Slytherins sort of followed suit-"

"Do you mean, Lucius _Malfoy_?" Harry blurted, horror struck.

"Yes," Persephone said. Her tone dropped as she came back to the present. "Draco's father."

Harry took a step back from her, not wanting to stand close anymore. "He's a Death Eater. A murderer. He's helping Voldemort right now."

"I know…" Persephone began softly. "I know what he is now. But it wasn't like that when we were at school. He was kind, and he was smart. He was a prefect and Quidditch Captain and Head Boy. He took care of us. He was…" Persephone stopped and swallowed. She leaned against the stone wall of the courtyard for support. "He was my friend."

They stood there quietly for a long time. Persephone was fighting back fresh tears, and Harry was fighting back his anger. The anger was only indirectly towards Persephone. Lucius Malfoy was one of the few people that Harry genuinely hated. Knowing that he had been school chums with his father's sister only made Harry loathe him more. It was a similar feeling of revulsion that he had towards Peter Pettigrew.

"I don't believe," he said breaking the silence. "I don't believe that people just suddenly go bad. I don't believe there aren't warning signs."

Persephone considered this. Concentration dried her eyes. At length, she said, "He never pretended to like Muggles. He thought a lot about bloodlines and being a proper wizard. I know he said he did not think they should let Muggle-borns into the school. But…it was talk. I never saw him _do_ anything to someone because they weren't part of a proper wizarding family. He never played pranks on the Hufflepuffs. And it wasn't like bloodlines were all we talked about. We talked about schoolwork and Quidditch and who had gone with whom to some silly party or other. It hardly came up really. There wasn't that much tension between the Slytherins and the Hufflepuffs or the Ravenclaws, nothing beyond the normal cup competition. The nasty stuff was all between Slytherin and Gryffindor."

"And you didn't see anything wrong with that?" Harry said spitefully.

"Of course I saw something wrong with it," Persephone said, hugging her arms to her chest. "I hated it, but what was I supposed to do? Lucius and his friends were so nice me. They liked me. Unlike James, they actually wanted me around. I didn't want to ruin that by arguing over politics."

"POLITICS?" Harry repeated loudly. Persephone flinched, and he realized he had drawn quite a few stares from the other students in the courtyard. He had enough of a handle on his anger to realize he did not want witnesses if this turned into a row. "Come on," he muttered. He headed out of the courtyard and started to make tracks through the snow-covered grounds towards the lake.

Persephone followed and fell into step beside him. "Are you angry with me?" she asked tentatively.

Harry started to say no, then he started to say yes. He settled on, "A bit." His fingers had balled into fists in his pockets. "I suppose I shouldn't be. Lucius Malfoy pulled the wool over the eyes of half the Ministry. But I was hoping you'd have seen through him. That you would hate him as much as I do."

"I could never hate Lucius," Persephone said softly.

"If you knew what I knew about him, you would," Harry said hotly. "If you had seen him as I have. Heard his voice coming from a Death Eaters hood. Heard him laugh while Voldemort tortured you. Heard him tell his fellow Death Eaters to kill your friends. It wasn't just talk."

Persephone gave a small pained gasp. "I know, Harry. I mean I understand why you hate him. I couldn't expect you to feel any other way. But I can't." Her eyes squeezed shut. Harry wanted to argue with her further, but she seemed to need a moment. They had nearly reached the lake before she spoke again. "You don't know how sad it is. To see someone so good, someone with so much potential…go so bad like that. You don't know how sick it makes me."

"He's evil," Harry said stubbornly.

"Well, everyone is to some degree aren't they?" she said with a desperate air. "I mean we all do bad things now and again."

"And again and again and again in his case," retorted Harry. "How can you think so fondly of him and so little of my father?"

"James did his share of bad things too." Persephone was breathing a bit more heavily now. "Maybe after I was gone, he got better and Lucius got worse, but I've just heard about these things, Harry. I wasn't there! I missed the war. I missed everyone being grownup. I just remember what they were like at school."

Harry stared out at the water. He was feeling anger born of severe disappointment. He had assumed that someone who would start a club like the Forum, who hated Voldemort so much, would naturally hate Lucius Malfoy too.

"I wish you could understand," Persephone moaned piteously. "I mean how would you feel, if you came back after twenty years and found out Ron had murdered someone?"

"He wouldn't do that," Harry said loyally.

"You're sure are you?" asked Persephone.

"Yes."

"Well, so was I," she said quietly.

Harry started walking along the edge of the lake, not really caring if Persephone followed, though she did. There was a strangely helpless feeling well up inside his chest. He was angry at Persephone for comparing Ron to Lucius Malfoy. They were a completely different breed. Ron was never cruel. Ron never mocked someone for being different. Ron never talked about killing anyone, not seriously anyway.

_But that's not entirely true is it?_ a small voice in Harry's head asked. Things Ron had said that sounded funny at the time but could be cruel if taken out of context crept back into his memory. _Maybe you just assumed he wasn't serious_. _Maybe you were wrong_.

Harry shook his head, refusing to accept the possibility. Ron might have been angry sure, might have felt like doing that, daydreamed about it. Everybody did at some point. Harry had. But he would never actually take that last step. Harry knew Ron too well, knew his limits.

_But what if that changed?_ the little voice peeped up again. _What if Ron changed somehow? What makes people take that last step and cross that line?_

No, not Ron. Ron will never be a dark wizard. That's absurd.

But if he did? If you were the Auror, and he had done something horrible, reprehensible, would you hunt him? Could you hate him?

_I'd stop him for his own good, _Harry thought_. But I wouldn't hate him. I couldn't._

(A small part of his brain knew that that was Persephone's point. That she had not been trying to imply anything about Ron. However Persephone had inadvertently opened a box of anxieties that Harry had tried to bury with Peter Pettigrew. What if one of his friends betrayed him?)

Forgiveness had been the last thing on the mind of Sirius and Lupin, but then Peter had caused the death of someone they dearly loved. What if Ron hurt Hermione? _But he wouldn't!_ What if it was Ginny or Luna? _He wouldn't! _Sirius, Lupin, and Harry's father had just missed the signs about Wormtail.

Maybe he was... Harry's head was beginning to hurt. He decided to shut down this ridiculous train of thought, before he ended up like Moody. Ron was not going to betray him. End of story. _But what about Dean or Seamus? Lavender or Parvati?_ He didn't think any of them would go bad, but could he be wrong about them?

"Maybe you're just a really bad judge of character," Harry said out loud to Persephone.

"That could be true," she conceded.

Harry seized upon the mental escape she offered. _That's it. She's a bad judge of character. _Being, in a sense, the older and wiser Potter, he would just have to look out for her.

Persephone tripped over a bump in the path, and Harry put a hand on her elbow to steady her. She gave him a grateful and slightly embarrassed smile.

"I want to show you something, Harry," she said. "Severus said he taught you some Legilimency."

"A long time ago," Harry replied. "He didn't exactly finish the lesson."

"You don't need to know much," Persephone said. "I just want to show you a memory."

"A memory?"

"From when I was at Hogwarts before," she looked down shyly. "I thought maybe if I could show you what it was like. You might understand me better."

"I saw one of Professor Snape's memories," Harry said. "That's how I knew what he had said to my mother, but he had a Pensieve. How are you going to show me a memory? I didn't think Legilimency worked like that."

"It doesn't normally," Persephone said. "Severus said I'm the only one he's ever met that can do it. Probably part of the whole Silver Child thing. He says my mind is just more neatly organized than a lot of people's. I can hold on a single memory much longer. I think that his very nice way of saying I'm more simple minded than average." She grinned. Harry continued to look confused, so she continued explaining. "We used to practice with each other. We discovered you can use Occlumency to guide someone to a thought as well as keep them out. I was never very good at Legilimency. I could only get very brief ideas and images from Severus, but I did catch on with Occlumency pretty well. I could show him entire scenes."

She took Harry's hand and led him to sit on a bench-sized stone near the path. "As long as you know the basic spell, I think I can guide you."

Harry studied her eyes, feeling both intrigued and apprehensive. "What would you show me?" he asked.

"Did you see what happened after Severus said what he did to Lily?" asked Persephone.

"I saw a bit of it," Harry said hesitantly.

"Did you see when I came up?"

"No, I didn't get that far."

"Well, it wasn't the memory I had in mind, but I think it might give you some idea what it was like between me and James," said Persephone. There was an 'it's-all-for-the-best' ring to her tone that Harry did not like.

"No, I don't want to see that. Can't you show me a happy memory? Surely you have one." He knew what Persephone wanted to do was provide some examples of James bullying, so that he would understand her fondness for the Slytherins better. Harry however had decided that he did not want or need to understand. He could accept her without understanding, maybe even come to trust her with time, and that should be enough for both of them. What he wanted and needed far more desperately was a fond image of his father. Something kind and substantial that he could hold onto, an image to attach to the stories and reassurances that his father had been in essence good.

Persephone seemed to have trouble switching mental gears. She was quiet long enough for Harry to start to feel anxious when she said, "Yes, I have one."

"Just one?" he asked with forced levity.

Persephone smirked. "Well, just one I can think of right now. We fought a lot. Easier to find examples of that, but this one was good." She held her hand up, and Harry pressed his palm against hers. "It helps me focus."

"What do I do?" asked Harry.

"Just use the spell and let me guide you," said Persephone.

Harry took his wand from his pocket with his free hand and pointed it at his temple. "_Legilimens_."

A stream of images passed through Harry's mind, the familiar halls of Hogwarts, clusters of students waving, Snape's face, a kidney shaped library in a white walled mansion, the Slytherin common room, shelves packed with bottles of potions ingredients. Harry was straining, searching for an image of his father.

"Stop!" Persephone yelped, and Harry found himself looking at her silver hair and eyes once more. Her silver brows had tightened into a disapproving scowl. "Harry, you're trying too hard! Don't go barreling around in my head. Relax, let me guide you."

"Sorry," Harry said.

"Once again now and _relax_."

"_Legilimens_."

Harry was once again gliding through the halls of Hogwarts or at least halls like those of Hogwarts. The halls became white and then blue-grey. He found himself stopped at a door, which opened, and the world fell back into resembling real time and space. He was in a living room with high, dark green walls and a white, unlit fireplace. Persephone was standing by a record player, looking even smaller and younger than she did now. She slid a record out of its pocket and placed it on the spinner.

There was a loud sound from the other side of the door.

"Mama?" Persephone called out in her oddly French sounding way. "Mama? Is that Remus?"

There was no reply. Persephone did not seem perturbed by this. She set the needle on the record. It began piping out lively music that seemed more appropriate to the nineteen forties than the Victorian style of the house and furnishings, and Harry reminded himself this all was taking place in the seventies. Persephone crossed the room while music filled its corners and pushed open the door. Beyond it was a blue-grey kitchen with a very large fireplace and a blocky center island. There was a woman standing at it chopping bits of vegetables. Harry liked her instantly. She had a kind, naturally beautiful face framed by soft ringlets. She wore graceful, high collared robes, and the rest of her dark blonde hair was pulled up into a neat bun.

"What do you want?" a teenage boy asked snappishly. Harry recognized his father, looking not much older than he had been in the last memory Harry had seen of him. Beside him was Sirius, handsome as before though his dark hair was a bit longer.

"James, leave her be," admonished the woman, Harry's grandmother, in a tired sort of way, as though she had said the same thing many times before.

Persephone stuck her tongue out at her brother and made her way around the island to the fourth person in the room. "Remus, come on! I want to show you something!"

A sixteen-year-old Remus Lupin was standing just outside the fireplace and dusting soot off his clothes. He looked up and smiled awkwardly at being singled out.

"I'm sure it's very important," said Sirius with mock-sincerity. Persephone ignored him, grabbed Remus's hand, and dragged him back into the room where the record player was piping out lively music. Remus stumbled slightly, but he looked more curious than annoyed.

"Papa brought home some new Muggle music," she explained excitedly over the upbeat thrum. "It's called big band. Do you like it?"

Remus laughed at her enthusiasm and nodded.

"It's not _new_ music, hissy," said James from the door, where he and Sirius were posed with bemused looks. "That stuff's been around for decades."

"Well, it's new to me," Persephone shot back prissily. She turned back to Lupin with a big smile and took his hands. "Come on, Remus! Dance with me!" Lupin spun Persephone out and moved one foot and his shoulders in a reserved sort of sway. Persephone made a bit more of an effort, but it was soon clear that she was not a very good dancer.

James and Sirius exchanged a pained look of amusement. James crossed the room and took Persephone's arms. With the air that he was doing a favor to mankind, he began to dance with her. It soon became clear that James was a very good dancer. Persephone even improved as he took the lead. She smiled brightly as he lead her through turns. James even lost his put upon manner after a few seconds and seemed to be genuinely enjoying himself. As the song ended, James spun his sister one last time, and they both collapsed onto the sofa to catch their breath. Sirius sat down besides James, his head cocked in such a way to imply that he was too cool to be amused by such silliness. Lupin was smiling and settled into one of the armchairs opposite them.

James left his arm stretched across the back of the couch, and Persephone nestled against him, looking happy and comfortable.

"You seriously need to take lessons this summer," said James. "You're terrible."

Persephone giggled. "You could teach me," she suggested.

"I supposed I'll have to," said James. "Can't have you besmirching the family name."

"I'm not that bad," Persephone protested with a laugh.

"Yes, you are," James and Sirius said together. Lupin nodded his agreement.

"Oh, like you're any better," said Persephone, not quite managing to scowl at Lupin.

"I never claimed to be," Lupin said, holding his hand up in a placating gesture.

"You know, she does have a point, Moony," said Sirius. "I think you best train them both, Padfoot."

"For the honor of Gryffindor?" asked James.

"For the honor of Gryffindor," Sirius agreed firmly.

Lupin rolled his eyes at them. "I think I'm a hopeless case."

"Nonsense," said James. "If hissy here can learn to dance, I'm sure you can."

"I haven't learned yet," Persephone reminded him.

"Another good, point. I take it back, Moony. You may indeed be a hopeless case," said James, his fingers lazily playing with Persephone's puff of hair. "We'll have to see how this one turns out first."

"Do you think I'll turn out?"

"I'll give you good odds," said James with a fond smile.

"Why can't you be this nice all the time?" Persephone asked her brother.

"Well, we have a reputation to maintain," said James. "Can't be seen consorting with the enemy. Actually, teaching you the deep, dark secrets of footwork may be a violation the Gryffindor code. We may just have to consult the Sorting Hat about transferring you to Gryffindor."

"Oh no, Sephie's too big of fraidy cat to get into Gryffindor," said Sirius sagely.

Persephone stuck her tongue out at him. "Am not, but I happen to like Slytherin, thank you very much."

"Why?" James groaned. "It can't be for the company."

"I _like_ my friends!" Persephone insisted.

"She likes Snivellus," Sirius said in a sneering tone.

"Don't call him that!" Persephone snapped at him.

James was giving Sirius a rather icy look as well. "She doesn't like Snivelly," he said flatly.

Persephone whacked James with the flat of her palm. "His name is Severus, and I like him very much."

"Why?" James groaned in disgusted tone.

"He's very nice," Persephone said. Sirius snorted with disbelief. "He's nice to _me_ at least," Persephone amended prissily.

"Yeah, well, there a reason for that isn't there?" Sirius said airily. James gave him a particularly piercing glare. Sirius acted like he did not notice, but he said nothing more.

"You could do a lot better," said James, giving Persephone's shoulder a squeeze, and giving Lupin a different sort of look.

Persephone, who missed the look, just made a dismissive sort of noise.

"You're really going to teach me how to dance?" she asked hopefully.

"Yes," said James. "But as this may considered an act of treason. You're forbidden to tell a soul."

"Or what?"

"Or I'll turn your hair green."

Persephone rolled her eyes, though she did not move away from her brother. "You do, and I'll tell Mama."

"Tattletale."

There was a loud thump that issued from the kitchen, followed by Mrs. Potter calling through the door. "James! Peter is here!" A few seconds later, the door opened to admit a small, mousy looking boy.

"Wormtail!" Sirius announced happily. Remus and James chorused with their own welcomes. Even Persephone joined in. "Hello, Peter!" she called out, waving in a large arch from the sofa.

Harry felt anger surge through him, and he broke the connection with Persephone and pulled himself out of the scene. He was sitting once again on the bench by the lake. He took his hands off Persephone's and placed them on his lap.

"Harry? What's wrong?" Persephone asked, giving him a confused look.

"Sorry," Harry said. He glanced down at his hands to find they were shaking slightly and curled them into fists. "I didn't expect him to be there."

Persephone continued to look confused, and Harry realized she did not know. "Peter Pettigrew is the one who betrayed Lily and James to Voldemort. He's the reason they're dead."

Persephone's mouth fell open. "But that can't be true," she said in a tight voice. "Peter loved James."

"They made him their secret keeper. Without him, Voldemort never could have found them."

Persephone's hand went to her mouth as though she might be sick. "What happened to him?" she asked.

"He died last year," Harry said. He did not want to tell the rest of the story but knew Persephone would ask if he did not volunteer the information. "He finally realized he was on the wrong side or had a burst of conscious or just felt that he owed me one as I spared his life a few years back. He tried to help me escape, and Voldemort killed him for it."

Persephone closed her eyes. "Poor Peter," she muttered.

"Don't feel too sorry for him," said Harry. "He killed thirteen Muggles during the first war to fake his own death. And he was the one who brought Voldemort back and restored him to power. And he killed Cedric Diggory. He was a vicious coward."

Persephone did not say anything. She just nodded and turned her face away. Secretly Harry was glad there was someone who could grieve for Pettigrew, because he could not. One good act could not undo a lifetime of crimes.

"I have another memory," said Persephone. "Just me and James. Do you want to see?" Harry nodded.

They pressed their palms together again. Harry found himself in the hospital wing this time. It had not changed much in twenty years. Moonlight spilled through the window illuminating the bed, most of them filled with sleeping students. A staggering echo of coughs interrupted the otherwise silent ward.

Persephone was lying in the bed nearest Harry. She was snuggled on a short stack of pillows, fist by her mouth as though awaiting the next cough. Her eyes were open a sliver, but she showed no sign of consciousness. Persephone looked even younger than she had in the last memory.

"Hey, hissy?" a sourceless whisper was followed by the air splitting to reveal a head. James must have covered himself with his invisibility cloak. "Persephone?" he asked in a softer voice. "Are you awake?"

Persephone moaned softly and opened her eyes. "What are you doing here?" she asked sleepily.

"Smuggled you some hot chocolate," said James, pulling his other arm and a mug out from under the invisibility cloak. "How are you feeling?"

Persephone pushed herself up to rest her back against her pillows. "Sick," she said in a stuffy voice. She squinted her silver eyes at James. "Won't you get in trouble?"

"Only if I get caught," said James, putting the hot chocolate on the stand by her bed. "So don't tell anyone I was here, or I'll turn your hair green."

Persephone stuck her tongue out at him, but she picked up the mug and took a sip. James put a hand on her forehead as though checking for fever and brushed a few stray strands of silver away.

"Thanks," Persephone said when she had finished drinking. There was a creaking sound from the other side of the room.

"Gotta run," James said. He kissed Persephone on the forehead and pulled the invisibility cloak back over his head. "Get better, hissy."

Persephone gave the mug back to him and quickly snuggled under the covers. The scene dissolved, but Harry believe this time it was because Persephone had fallen asleep, ending the memory.

"Thank you," Harry told the modern day Persephone once the real world had come back into focus.

She gave him a small smile. "I haven't thought about that night in a long time. I missed getting to see James grown up."

"Did he ever really turn your hair green?" asked Harry.

Persephone's eyes went round. "Five Times!" Harry bit his tongue to keep from laughing. "It's not funny," Persephone insisted. "I thought it made me look like a banshee. James said…well, he said it did. Told you he was a bully."

Harry could not help himself. He laughed.

o

* * *

o

Professor McGonagall corned Harry and Padma after Transfiguration to tell him that it was the head boy and girl's responsibility to find a band for the Leaving Dance. Again Padma volunteered to take care of it. Harry said he would make a lousy head boy if he kept skiving off his duties, but Padma told him not to worry about it. "You have bigger things on your mind."

Harry did not try to argue the point.

Dean reported that the Forum had returned to its original focus. Persephone was dropping none too subtle hints that she wanted Harry to start coming again, but Harry's excuses were genuine.

Slytherin won their game against Hufflepuff, which put them back in the running and took Hufflepuff completely out of it, and the new Ravenclaw seeker had Ginny nervous. When Harry was not training extra hard for Quidditch, he was steeped in homework for his N.E.W.T. level classes. All Hermione's dire predictions about his lack of preparation were coming true. Harry's attempts to modify Memory Potion was laughable even by his own standards. Under normal circumstance, Harry would have expected ridicule from Snape, but the Potions Master no longer seemed to care. He avoided even looking at Harry or Hermione and spent most of class time sitting at his desk, staring at nothing in particular.

Malfoy seemed equally distracted. He sat at his own table away from the Slytherin girls and was only half-heartedly attending to his own experiments. Harry caught him often looking at Snape as well as the general direction of the table that he shared with Hermione. Draco did not looked abashed when Harry returned his stare. It was as though Malfoy wanted to start a conversation, but not knowing how to begin or what to say, settled for watching the one he wanted to talk to. Harry was starting to find it a little annoying.

Hermione was doing something impressive with Wolfsbane and silenced Harry with a glare whenever he thought about asking for advice. Neville was willing to offer suggestions, but Snape would raise his own voice then long enough to say "Mr. Longbottom" in a discouraging tone until the room fell silent once again.

Hermione gave Snape a sad look and Malfoy a curious one before returning to her potion. She had tried apologizing to Snape for her accusations against him without much luck. He had simply lectured her on the steps a perfect _should_ take if they suspect inappropriate behavior from a teacher and had not acknowledged the apology.

Persephone was more accepting. Hermione had started tutoring her after Christmas break. Malfoy had reportedly joined some of these sessions. When Ron raised concerns, Hermione claimed he was tutoring Persephone in other subjects, and that she was hoping to figure out what he was up to. Harry was a little surprised that Malfoy would let himself be seen with Hermione, but he supposed Persephone enforced the peace. Maybe she thought Harry would forgive Draco if he saw him acting civil to a Muggle-born, particularly one Harry cared about. In all honesty, it did not hurt. He only worried that Malfoy was attempting to worm information from Hermione as she was attempting to worm it from him.

o

* * *

o

The few moments that Harry took from study and Quidditch were dedicated to the D.A. They had exhausted the history books and speculation over what Voldemort's reasons for staying silent so long might be. The charts and maps and timelines were all reasonably complete, and the Death Eaters had given them nothing new to add. Harry turned the focus of D.A. meetings back to learning and practicing new spells simply to keep the members from getting bored.

He had been considering telling Persephone about the Dumbledore's Army since Dean's report, but it was Hermione's recommendation that the time had come, which led him to show her the Room of Requirement.

Harry knew Persephone well enough now that he thought it best to show her the Room of Requirement the first time without anyone else present. This proved to be wise. While Harry did not mind the long stream of praises, exclamations, and suggestions that poured from his aunt, he felt the display might be a little embarrassing, not to mention take up too much time, at an actual D.A. meeting.

A few of Persephone's suggestions were actually useful. She offered to coordinate the Forum with the D.A.'s activities, using it as a screen for new members among other things. Harry gave her the date and time of the next meeting. After a long debate he agreed to let her bring a small group of Slytherins with her.

Harry asked Persephone to come to the meeting about fifteen minutes after the other student had arrived. He wanted time to prepare them, particularly after the disaster that had occurred the last time Slytherins entered the Room of Requirement.

The reaction was varied. Some of the students, like Hermione, seemed to think the addition of Slytherins brought the D.A. to the fullness of its potential. Some of them did not mind Persephone but were anxious to know who the others were, and Harry had to admit he had no names. Others, particularly those in Harry's year, were clearly distressed by the idea, and Harry spent the remaining few minutes calming nerves.

The room fell tense and silent as door opened. Persephone stuck her head in first, then motion to those outside the door to follow her inside. Harry's eyes widened slightly as Millicent Bulstrode stepped inside followed by Victoria Dey, a sixth year girl who looked vaguely familiar, and a younger boy Harry did not recognize.

The Slytherins hovered uncertainly by the door, until Harry stood and gestured for them to come forward. He offered them seats near the front and gave them a formal introduction to the group, explaining the basic practices of the D.A. in case Persephone had not. Everyone still seemed a little tense, the Slytherins included, so Harry suggested they watch for a little while everyone else broke into pairs to practice counter-jinxes. A few others like Ginny stopped by to congratulate Persephone and the other Slytherins on joining.

Once the practice was underway, Harry left Ron and Hermione to monitor and sat down on the cushions beside his aunt. "I'm a little surprised you didn't bring Malfoy," he told her quietly.

Persephone rolled her eyes. "I tried to. He won't come because he thinks one of the other Slytherins is spying on him."

"Are they?" asked Harry. Persephone shrugged.

"Actually, I'm a little surprised to see you here," Harry told Millicent, who had been listening, in a clearer voice. "You were on the Inquisitorial Squad two years ago."

"My family supports the Ministry," said Millicent. "We didn't really know what the D.A. did before. We thought it was an anti-Ministry group."

"It's an anti-Voldemort group," said Harry. The two Slytherins that Harry did not know were giving him their rapt attention now. "But the Ministry was denying that he had returned, so we try to avoid their interference."

"They're admitting he's back now," Millicent said pointedly.

"Yes," Harry conceded. "But I still don't think they would be too enthusiastic about students organizing this way. Some of the defensive magic we practice is pretty advanced." Harry saw a spark of excitement in the eyes of the blonde sixth year. Millicent just cocked her head in an accepting sort of way.

Persephone grinned at him. "Harry, this is Laurel Hedgebottom and Jasper Smith," she said. "I wanted to ask Chessann to come too, but she had Quidditch practice. Laurel's in my class, and Jasper's father is an Auror. I think you've met Victoria—"

"My father's a Death Eater," Victoria said. Her voice had no inflection, but her proud, dark eyes challenged Harry to object to her on these grounds. Harry was not sure how to react. Some of the people practicing nearby must have been listening, because they fell still. Seamus Finnigan forgot this counter-jinx and was knocked back by the force of Dean's jinx. Hermione hurried over to take care of the small tentacles that were sprouting from Seamus's skin. "I have to write him weekly reports," Victoria added, still looking at Harry in a very off-putting way. Even the other Slytherins were looking at Victoria uncomfortably.

Persephone gave the small, dark girl a patient look. "What Victoria _means_ is that she's offering to let you edit what she sends to her father. She wants to help."

"Oh," Harry said, still unsure. "Is that what you meant?"

Victoria gave a single nod, and Harry relaxed a little bit. "Thank you," he said as the weight of what she was offering settled on him.

"_There_," Hermione said in a triumphant tone. "Told you having Slytherins in the D.A. would be useful."

The Slytherins seemed eager to join in the practice, so Harry let them pair up. After a few rounds, he tried to coax other members of the D.A. to work with the Slytherins, so they would not be segregated. Laurel and Jasper were easy enough, but no one wanted to face off with Victoria, so he gave in and let her stay paired with Millicent. Harry offered to work with Persephone, but she shook her head. "I'm not allowed to point my wand at anyone," she said seriously. "It's temperamental," she explained when Harry raised his eyebrow. "Part of this I guess." She touched her hair, and Harry decided not to press for more details until after the meeting.

He let the practice carry on for about ten minutes or so before calling everyone back to their seats. Once they were settled, he made another formal matter of having the new members sign the magic contract to keep the D.A. a secret. Laurel looked a little nervous about the hex attached to the parchment, but she signed anyway. The other members seemed to relax a bit after the Slytherins had signed.

After the Slytherins had returned to their seats, Harry opened up discussion for the best way to coordinate the Forum and D.A. so that the two groups were working together without being redundant. Many of the ideas were things that he and Persephone had already discussed, but Harry wanted to be encouraging and listened as though each idea was brilliant and new. He was genuinely happy to give his think tank something new to mull over.

When interest in the topic of the Forum began to wane, Harry opened up the floor for speculation on what Voldemort might be planning. The D.A. had rehashed this topic a hundred times, and the attitude in the room became that of a repressed sigh. Several people looked immediately bored and began muttering in undertones to their neighbor. A few people seemed to understand that he was trying to fish for new information from the Slytherins without singling them out. Unfortunately, it seemed that Victoria did not know anything about her father's activities beyond that he was a Death Eater.

Harry was about to move on to another topic, when Persephone spoke in an oddly calm voice. "He's going to attack the school."

"What?" said Harry, though he had heard her perfectly well. The murmured conversations dropped off.

Persephone blinked as though waking and realized that everyone was staring at her. She turned slightly pink. For a moment Harry thought she was too embarrassed to continue, but Persephone visibly steeled herself and got to her feet. "Well, it makes sense, doesn't it?" she said looking about for support. "He took a big blow at the end of last year, and he's been quiet since then. We know he wasn't injured. He still has followers so he can't be quiet because he's weak. He has too be plotting something. And it must be taking a lot of time to prepare, so it has to be big. He'll want to show everyone how strong he is, so it will probably be something flashy. And Hogwarts isn't just a school. It's a castle, steeped in really old magic and protections. And…and well, it's symbolic, probably more so than the Ministry and easier to take. It does make sense."

Harry stared at Persephone. He could see holes in her logic, but instinct told him not to dismiss the idea. Hogwarts was just the sort of prize that Voldemort would covet. He had made a bid for the school before. Why not again? The voices of the students were rising in argument and protest. A few of them looked on verge of panic. Harry blew his whistle.

The arguments broke off, and everyone looked at Harry expectantly. Harry's mind was racing, not from panic so much as an odd sort of excitement. "We don't have any real reason to think that Voldemort is planning to attack the school," he said, ignoring Persephone's scowl. "However, I think it's a possibility that we should make plans for. If the Death Eaters do attack the school, I want them to find an organized resistance not a bunch of scared kids. Hogwarts is ours, not theirs."

Ernie Macmillan and Hannah Abbott gave a loud, "Here, here!" It was echoed by others. Harry smiled. Regardless of what Voldemort's real plans were, he now knew exactly what he wanted to do with the D.A. He wanted to do everything the Ministry had feared and turn it into Dumbledore's Army.

o

* * *

o

Preparing for the possibility of an attack on Hogwarts gave the D.A. exactly what it was lacking. Focus. The D.A. began to work out "emergency plans", and the Forum began discussing basic defense. Harry and Padma used their place as head boy and girl to try to recruit more of the prefects into the D.A. Ron and Hermione both agreed that the prefects were the best candidates to make officers in the army because the other students were already supposed to be listening to them. They had to proceed carefully however. Not every prefect could be trusted. The staff approved of Harry and Padma's "emergency plans" which mainly consisted of the students holing up in their dormitories, but Harry was careful to make sure they did not know the full extent of what the D.A. was up to. Harry was not sure how much the teachers would approve of the students forming ranks and drilling attack spells.

Ernie Macmillan was enjoying the whole thing immensely, and he was not the only one. Ron had never taken his prefect duties so seriously. Hermione had taken it upon herself to edit and revise Victoria's reports to her father. Luna spent a good half hour trying to convince him that they should collect Nargles and consider learning how to summon Heliopaths. "It would prove extremely useful."

Ginny agreed that planning for contingencies made sense, but she, like others, was wavering on whether she thought Voldemort would actually attack. "It seems pretty far fetched," she told Harry on their way to the Quidditch pitch. "But still, Persephone was right about the last Quidditch game. Don't suppose she's said anything about who's going to win this one?"

Harry shook his head. Persephone swore that her Quidditch prediction was pure luck and the thing about Voldemort was just a guess. "Well, not exactly a guess," she admitted. "More like a flash, like an image in my head, but that doesn't mean it's actually going to happen."

Even with the prophecy hanging over his head, or perhaps because of it, Harry had never put much stock in Divination. So whether Persephone's prediction was genuine or simply a guess made little difference to him. He had never had any insights into Voldemort's plans before and managed to survive somehow. For someone so deeply entangled with his own life, he knew very little about Voldemort, but knowing what little he did, Harry thought that might be for the best.

Harry was walking between classes with Ron and Hermione when Persephone ran up to and nearly collided with him. Harry grabbed her arms to steady her. "Harry, I just heard from Kagome," she said breathlessly.

"Who's Kagome?" asked Ron.

"The boggart she made friends with," said Harry.

"You made friends with a boggart?" Ron looked disturbed.

"The one from Halloween?" guessed Hermione.

"Right," said Persephone. "Anyway, I sent her on a mission to find out what Voldemort fears the most."

"Persephone-" Harry began in an exasperated tone.

"It's all right. He didn't hurt her," Persephone insisted. "Don't you want to know what Voldemort's most afraid of?"

"We already know that," said Ron.

"Albus Dumbledore," supplied Harry.

Persephone grinned and shook her head. "No, it's you. He's afraid of you, Harry."

Harry was intrigued but not nearly as delighted by the news as Persephone. He had no intention of letting Kagome's message fill him with false hope. Being the thing that Voldemort feared most probably meant he was also the thing Voldemort would most want to destroy. It really made little difference to his plans or preparations. Still, it was interesting.

o

* * *

o

With March came the Quidditch match between Gryffindor and Ravenclaw. The Ravenclaw seeker was fast, but Harry had a better eye. He spotted the snitch while Ekin was still on the other side of the pitch and closed his hand around it before the other boy had managed to reach his full speed. Ginny only complained that Harry had not given the rest of the team enough time to take advantage of Ravenclaw's lamentable Chasers. She was grinning from ear to ear when she said it, so Harry decided not to take the criticism too hard.

The win left Gryffindor and Slytherin as the top contenders for the Quidditch cup. There had never been less tension between the two teams. Malfoy was still avoiding Harry, which meant Crabbe and Goyle followed suit. Chessann Blampied finally managed to work a D.A. meeting into her schedule. She and Ginny were stubbornly enforcing a "leave your attitude at the pitch" policy.

Harry had become intrigued by the idea of gaining better insights into Lord Voldemort. He decided that the time had come to tell the D.A. his story, or as much of it as he could. This idea went over a lot better than the inclusion of the Slytherins. Though they seemed equally intrigued.

He began his story with his first year. Harry did not consider himself much of a storyteller, but Lavender Brown gasped loudly when he told them about Voldemort drinking the unicorn blood. Harry thought it was a shame Draco was still not coming to meetings. It took all the fun out of reminding him than he had run away screaming.

Harry tried to avoid unnecessary details, though Ron and Hermione could not resist popping in their own additions. Even with their interruptions, he got through the story quickly enough to move on to his second year. Hannah Abbott was deeply disturbed to learn that a Basilisk had been roaming the halls of the school unchecked. Ernie merrily reminded them that they had suspected Harry of being the Heir of Slytherin.

Harry grimaced. He was glad to have a chance to set the record straight on that particular issue. "No, Voldemort is the Heir of Slytherin," he said, pacing to the back of the room. "He was a student at Hogwarts about fifty years ago, only then he was known as Tom Riddle."

"Tom Riddle!" Persephone yelped, her silver eyes very round.

"I told you his name was Tom," Hermione said, watching her curiously.

"But Tom _Riddle_?"

Harry's own curiosity was growing. The girl, who said Voldemort's name with a derisive snort and had for months been trying to convince them to laugh at him, looked positively horrified at the name "Riddle".

"Tom _Marvolo _Riddle?" Persephone continued incredulously as though hoping some one would contradict her.

"Yes," said Harry, eyeing her curiously. Everyone in the room was watching her intently.

Persephone's hand flew to her mouth. Her eyes stayed round, and she shook her head slowly. She dropped her hands to her chin. "But that can't be true," she said in a squeaky whisper and clamped her hands back over her mouth.

"It's true," Harry said curtly. "I met him. I talked to him."

"But he killed James!" she continued in the same loud whispery squeak, again only uncupping her hands only long enough to speak.

Harry glanced about students in the room. None of them were having reactions like hers. Harry was beginning to feel annoyed. She knew something.

"Persephone, what's all this about?" he demanded, but she scarcely looked fazed. She did drop her hands from her mouth, and her voice strengthened in a sort of desperate fury.

Persephone cautiously got to her feet. "Tom Riddle—Tom Marvolo Riddle—killed James Potter." She said every word very clearly as though trying to sort them out in her own head.

There was a wave of uncomfortable shifting as some of the other students realized she was talking about Harry's father. A few of them looked at Harry now. Persephone did not seem to notice them. She was looking at Harry too.

"He-" she paused. Her expression softened and her hands hovered near her mouth. "But, Harry-Oh, Harry, he tried to kill you," she said this as if it was the saddest thing she had ever heard. "You were just a baby, and he tried to kill you."

Harry felt very uncomfortable. Everyone knew Voldemort had tried to kill Harry. Voldemort was still trying to kill Harry. This was not news. It should not have shocked her because Voldemort-no, not Voldemort-Tom Riddle. She was upset, horrified, that Tom Riddle had tried to kill him.

"Persephone, what do you know about Tom Riddle?" Harry asked, getting to his feet.

Persephone clamped her hands over her mouth more tightly than before. Her eyes widened again. Harry took a step towards her, and she took a step back. Harry paused, but Persephone continued to back up until she reached the far wall. Her back pressed against the wall, she began to shake her head slowly and slid down to the floor. Back still against the wall, she pulled in her knees, so that she rested in a fetal position.

She sat there, her hands lying limply at her sides, staring at nothing and continuing to shake her head slowly. Harry crossed the room. "Persephone?" he said gently. She did not respond. He kneeled down before her so that they were close to eye level.

"Persephone," he tried again. "If you know something about Voldemort, you have to tell me."

She looked at him miserably. "But I promised Mama." She slapped her hands back over her mouth. Her eyes were beseeching. For a moment they conversed with their eyes. Harry stared back at her resolutely. She relented but cast her gaze anxiously at the other students in the room.

Harry looked to Hermione and Ron, surveyed the other students, and indicated the door.

"Right," Hermione murmured, then said bossily. "Everybody out."

There was a scattering of confused protests. "Come on," Ron said. "Everyone out of the room, just for a minute." They met various levels of resistance but showed themselves fully willing to physically hurl each student from the room if necessary.

Persephone continued to watch anxiously as they cleared the room, avoiding Harry's eyes. "What did you promise your mother?"

"I promised I wouldn't tell James," she said in a very soft, strained voice.

"I'm not James," Harry reminded her.

"I know," she said. "But I promised Mama..." She whimpered. Tears welled up, held back by silver lashes, and he understood she was trying to convince herself to betray her dead mother's confidence.

"Persephone, I understand, I really do. But I'm sure your mother, my grandmother, would want you to tell me if it's important," he reasoned.

She looked over Harry's shoulder. He glanced around again to see Ron and Hermione shoving the last of the students out the door and looking back to see if Harry wanted them to go as well. Ron in particular looked reluctant to leave.

"You can trust Ron and Hermione," he told her. "And you can trust me."

"You don't want to know, Harry," she said.

"Yes, I do," Harry insisted.

"No. You don't," she said so calmly that he knew this was her last line of resistance and whatever she had to tell him was truly unpleasant.

"Okay, maybe I don't." He felt Ron and Hermione draw nearer. "But I need to know. If it's about Voldemort, Tom Riddle, I _need _to know it."

She took a few uncertain breaths to steel herself. She kept her eyes steadfastly on Harry. "Tom Riddle. Tom Marvolo Riddle is the name of James' father."

"What?" Harry said reflexively.

"Tom Riddle was James Potter's father," Persephone repeated. "He's your grandfather, Harry."

"No," Hermione said. "That's not true. Henry Potter. Henry Potter was your grandfather. I looked it up."

"It is true," Persephone insisted. "Mama told me. I overheard her and Papa arguing. James had gotten in trouble for something at school. And Papa said, 'I just feel sometimes that if there was something of me in him, I could relate to him better.' And Mama said, 'You don't mean that.' And Papa said he didn't, but I'd never heard them talk like that before, and it scared me. So I asked Mama about it, and she told me.

"She didn't betray Papa," Persephone insisted, reading their faces. "She met Tom Riddle in India, and they were married. But he found out that she was Muggle-born, so he left her."

"Why didn't he know she was Muggle-born?" Hermione asked.

"Mama was raised by a pure-blood family, but she adopted. Mama didn't know it was important, and she let it slip. And he got angry, really angry, and left. But she was already pregnant with James, and she didn't know what to do. So she came back to England. She and Henry Potter had been old school friends, and she confided in him. She didn't want James to grow up without a father, and Papa had always loved her so she married him."

"You lying little-" Ron spat angrily. "She's in league Voldemort. She just wants to make it hard for you to fight him." Ron made a move towards Persephone, and she cringed.

"No!" Harry shouted. Breaking his gaze with Persephone for half a second to glare Ron back. He could feel the horror and disgust emanating from the both of him and Hermione. Persephone watched him with anxious dread. Harry knew that he should be equally horrified, more so, but all he felt was an extreme calm. A slow smile spread across his face. "It makes sense."

Hermione gave a small gasp. "Harry..." Ron said in a warning tone.

"Don't you see?" said Harry. "It makes sense. This is the first time any of this has made sense." Persephone was picking up on his calm, but they were all watching him doubtfully. "Look, the prophecy could have applied to me or Neville. Why was it me? Why did Voldemort come after me instead of Neville? If he knew, I was his grandson..."

"Harry, I'm not sure that he knew," said Persephone.

"He could have been after both of you," said Hermione, trying to be sensible.

"But, why come after me first?" Harry insisted. "Even he didn't know for certain, he must have known it was possible. Look, you didn't see Tom Riddle, his sixteen-year-old self, in the Chamber. Even he commented on how we even _looked_ something alike. He said he 'wondered', I never realized what about."

"Harry, he hadn't even met Mama at sixteen," said Persephone in an exasperated tone.

"Okay," Harry conceded. "But he still could have wondered. And—" Harry stopped. A thought hit him that knocked him to the ground, clutching his sides with laughter.

"Harry?" Hermione began, looking a little frightened.

"Oh man, this is brilliant!" Harry managed between convulsions. "Just brilliant!" Persephone touched his arm, and he pushed himself back up to sitting position. Cheeks puffed out with contained laughter. "Don't you get it? I AM the Heir of Slytherin!" He was laughing so hard that tears were starting leak from his eyes. No one else found this revelation as amusing as he did. Ron looked horrified. Hermione was staring at him sadly, and Persephone just looked worried. "You have to admit it's a little funny?" Harry urged them after he had calmed down a bit.

"Oh, yeah, hysterical," said Ron in a hollow tone.

Hermione opened her mouth and closed it again. "Maybe we should ask Professor Dumbledore…"

That suggestion sobered Harry. "Yeah," he said, feeling anger start to build now. "Yeah, let's go to talk to Dumbledore." Harry clenched his fists and got his feet. He strode to the door of the Room of Requirement and flung it open. Most the D.A. was still crowding around the hall. "Move," Harry said shortly. The crowd pressed to the side of the hall to form a path for him.

"What's going on, Harry?" asked Ernie.

"Not now," said Harry as he walked on. He did not want to talk to anyone other than Dumbledore.

He heard Ron hastily dismiss the others and Luna ask if he was all right. A murmur of confusion arose. Harry left the others to handle it and did not break stride. A few minutes later, Ron, Hermione, and Persephone caught up to him.

"Acid pops," Harry said without batting an eye. Head boy did come with certain privileges. The gargoyle leapt aside, and Harry climbed the stairs, the others on his heels. He flung open the door to Headmaster's office and stalked inside.

Dumbledore was standing by Fawkes' perch. He looked up calmly as the four students entered his office. "Ah, Harry, do come in."

"Why didn't you tell me?" Harry demanded.

Dumbledore, sensing a long interview, took a seat behind his desk, and lifted his hand. Hermione took the hint and shut the door behind them.

"What is it I have failed to tell you, Harry?" the Headmaster asked, looking up at him.

Harry met Dumbledore's gaze with a hard stare. "WHY DIDN'T YOU TELL ME VOLDEMORT WAS MY GRANDFATHER?" Dumbledore continued simply to look at Harry. "Don't tell me you were trying to protect me. That excuse may have worked when I was twelve, but I'm of age now. I have proven myself time and again, so what reason could you _possibly _have for not telling me something that important?"

"Harry," Dumbledore said in an infuriatingly reasonable tone. "There is a very simple reason why I never told you that Voldemort was you grandfather. To my knowledge, it simply isn't true."

"But it is true, headmaster," Persephone spoke up. "Mama told me. She only knew him as Tom Riddle though. They were married, but he left her when he found out she was Muggle-born, and she married Papa."

"You're going to try to tell me that you didn't know?" said Harry. He still wanted to be angry.

"Mama wanted it kept secret," Persephone repeated adamantly. "I don't think she told anyone except me and Papa. I don't think James ever knew."

Dumbledore was staring gravely at Persephone as though reassessing her.

"It makes sense," said Harry weakly, finding himself calm once again.

Dumbledore raised his eyebrows. "Does it?"

"Only the Heir of Slytherin could open the Chamber of Secrets," said Harry. "We looked something alike, Tom Riddle and I. It explains why he came after me and not Neville. Why he fears me."

Dumbledore considered Harry for a long moment through his half-moon spectacles. "I can't say that I'm entirely convinced. But let's suppose for a moment that what you have been told is in fact true. What are you going to do with this information?"

"Nothing has changed," Harry said grimly. "I am still the one who has to kill Voldemort."


	16. The Date

**Disclaimer:** This story is based on the Harry Potter novels written by J.K. Rowling. All characters created by J.K. Rowling are owned by J.K. Rowling. The few characters created by me (i.e. Persephone, Hotchet, Kagome…) belong to me, but are available for use in other fics as long as I get credited as their creator. None of us are making any money off this and no infringement is intended.

* * *

o

**Level 2.10: The Date**

"I don't _know_ that he's attacking the school," Persephone told Draco. They had come early to the room where the Friday evening study group met. "I just think it's a possibility."

He had put off asking her about this supposed attack by Voldemort, hoping she would volunteer the information. But she had not yet found it worthy of mention, and his patience had come to an end. "Hermione said you had a vision."

"It wasn't a vision, more of an image, and I think that's just my mind's way of putting the pieces together," Persephone said. "It doesn't mean it's a glimpse of the future or anything."

Draco narrowed his eyes slightly as he studied her. "Do you get glimpses of the future?"

"No!" Persephone was starting to look cross. "How many times have I said that Divination is a complete crock? We can make guesses at the future, and some people guess better than others. But that doesn't mean anyone can really _see_ into it. Certainly not me!" She dropped into her chair heavily and flung her History of Magic book open on the table.

Draco rubbed his temples. "So when is this supposed attack that you're guessing at supposed to happen?"

Persephone shrugged. "How would I know? It's just an idea. It's not like Voldewart consults me on his schedules."

Draco slid into the seat across from her. It had never been outside his realm of possibility that Voldemort could find a way to get to him at Hogwarts, but he had felt safer here than he could have anywhere else. He should have known that nowhere was truly safe. Still, no sense in getting into a panic over a guess. If the Dark Lord showed up, he would stick to his original plan and run, and if he did not come, well Draco had other plans.

"I think I'm going to ask her," he said.

Persephone raised her eyebrows.

Draco folded and unfolded his hands. "I know it's early, but I don't want to risk anyone else asking her before I do. We've been working together well enough." Persephone did not look encouraging. "Look, I have to ask her," Draco defended himself. "If I don't I'm going to spend the rest of my life wondering what she would have said."

Persephone just gave him a humoring half-smile and shook her head.

"You think it's impossible, don't you?" Draco said. He indulged in a bit of melodrama and dropped his head towards the desk to hide it in his arms.

"No, I don't think it's impossible," Persephone said. "Just-whatever you do, don't get angry when she says 'no'."

"When?" Draco echoed, lifting his head enough to give Persephone a betrayed look.

"If," Persephone amended, rolling her eyes. "I think she'd be willing, but she needs a little more time to get to know you. Your better qualities."

The door opened at that point, cutting short any further conversation on the subject. Draco moved to his own table and waited for his group to arrive. When Weasley entered, Draco dared to hope that Granger would follow, but all he got from looking at Weasley was a dark glare in return.

o

* * *

o

On Saturday, he made his way once again to Moaning Myrtle's bathroom. Hermione was sitting at a small table. She looked up briefly to see who was entering then went back to her work. Draco shut the door behind him gingerly. The bathroom was giving him the same feeling he normally got from the library. He felt oddly hesitant to cross the room, but unlike the library there was nothing in the bathroom with which to distract himself.

He put his bag down on the floor and sat down in the chair across from Hermione. "Where'd the table come from?" he asked.

"Conjured it," Hermione said. "I was tired of sitting on the floor."

"It's nice work," Draco said admiringly.

"It's simple," Hermione said dismissively, though Draco thought there was an undertone of pride in her voice.

"Here, you like to mash things," Hermione said, sliding a bowl of pomegranate seeds towards him. Draco picked up Most Potente Potions which was lying open on the table to double check whether the seeds were to be mashed, chopped, sliced or peeled, before getting started.

"Wonder where Persephone is," he said to fill the quiet.

"Probably talking to someone," Hermione said with a sigh.

"How did we end up doing this for her rather than with her again?" Draco asked.

To his delight, this earned him an amused smirk from Hermione. "Well, Dumbledore did call her the most naturally manipulative person he'd ever met."

Draco laughed. "Did he?" A sudden weight of realization settled in his stomach. This potion was very important to Persephone. If she was late, it was very likely that she was intentionally giving him time alone with Hermione. He also realized why the bathroom seemed so quiet. "So-uh, where's Myrtle?" he asked. His mouth had gone quite dry.

Hermione shrugged. "She was gone when I got here."

Draco worked steadily on the pomegranate seeds for a few minutes, feeling his pulse grow steadily faster. "So d'you, do you have a date for the Leaving Dance yet?" he asked, trying to sound casual.

"Not yet, bit early though," Hermione said, not bothering to look up from her work. If being alone with him made her nervous, she was hiding it well. Draco felt his insides give a small leap. That was something. "You?"

_She wants to know if you're going with someone_. She's just being polite. _Or she really wants to know_. Ask her already. She's looking at you. _She's wondering why you're taking so long to answer the question_. "No, I'm not going with anyone," Draco said, amazed by how calm his own voice sounded. Hermione turned her sharp eyes back to her work, and Draco took the opportunity to swallow down the lump forming in his throat.

Now, if he could only get through the next sentence without tripping over himself. He took a calming breath. _Be cool, you're a Malfoy_. "Do you want to go to the dance with me?" _Yes, every word clear and in sequence. Well done._

Hermione laughed, not the sort of laugh brought about by nerves or even a giggle but a short, derisive laugh void of humor. "You must be joking."

Draco felt the blood rise to his cheeks. _Stupid._ "Right," he said, anger born of embarrassment giving heat to his voice. "Right, I was joking." Draco got to his feet. Hermione was looking at him again out of the corner of her eye. There was no compassion in her eyes. It was though she was looking at a new and slightly disgusting insect that was doing something mildly interesting. Draco felt the anger build in his chest. The evil witch knew very well he had not been joking, but if she wanted to play that way. "No points for timing or delivery, wasn't nearly as funny this time around. Sorry," he added in an acid tone and walked quickly towards the door.

He put his hand on the handle and stopped short. _Idiot_. Hermione was sure to have a good laugh with her friends over the whole thing. She could care less that he was setting aside generations worth of tradition and the respect of everyone he knew for her. It made him so..._don't get angry...whatever you do, don't get angry_. Draco sighed and rested his forehead against the doorframe.

_You did joke about it before, idiot. She might truly think your joking now. Turn around and ask her properly._ Draco pushed off his anger, swallowed his embarrassment, turned back around, and walked calmly back to the table.

Hermione was giving him a very peculiar look now, as though whatever he had might be catching.

Draco put his hands on his table. He was not able to look her in the eyes just yet. "I'm not joking." He looked at her now, his voice not nearly as confident. "Will you go to the dance with me?"

"NO," Hermione said, as though that was such an obvious answer she should not have to say it.

Draco felt the anger rise again but very deliberately channeled it into determination. He dropped to his knees beside the table and looked up at her. "Please?"

"No!" Hermione repeated.

Draco let his hands slide off the table and onto his lap. "Why not?"

Hermione just gaped at him with her mouth hanging open.

He tried presenting his case. "I'm a really good dancer, and I'm not a bad conversationalist if you give me chance. You can order me around and make me fetch punch and stuff. It will be fun."

Hermione looked as though she wanted to say something but seemed unable to form words.

"If you don't say anything, I'll take that as a 'yes'," Draco said, trying a disarming grin on her.

"I said 'no' twice!" Hermione yelped. "Malfoy, you are the biggest ass I've ever met. What on earth makes you think I'd want to go to a dance with you?"

"Well..." Draco had to stop and think for a moment. "I've decided to stop being an ass."

Hermione rubbed her temples as though fighting off a headache.

"Hermione, I've been a big jerk, and I want to make it up you," he said earnestly. "Please, let me take you the dance?"

"You do understand that I'm not even mildly interested in you?" Hermione said.

"That's okay," Draco said with a shrug. He got up and returned to the chair he had abandoned. "Look, Granger, I'm not asking you go steady or anything. But I would be very grateful if you'd give me a chance."

Hermione had her arms folded. She was looking at him through narrowed eyes, but Draco hoped that meant she was at least thinking it over. "How about this?" he said. "Next Hogsmeade weekend, I'll take you to the Three Broomsticks and buy you whatever you want. We can spend a little time together, and if that goes well, we can go to the dance together?"

"You want me to go on a date with you so I can decided whether or not I want to go on a date with you?" Hermione said dryly.

"Well, it's not a date exactly," Draco said. "It's more of pre-date...date."

Hermione rolled her eyes. The realization hit her then too. "Persephone set me up for this, didn't she? She's late on purpose! You two had this worked out!"

"No, we didn't," Draco said, and that was mostly true. "I swear. Hermione, please, I'll do anything. You can set the terms. What would it take to get you to go out with me?"

Hermione did not look entirely convinced. Her brows knitted together. She stared for a long time at the cauldron between them, and Draco tried hard not to betray his nervousness. He may have gone too far saying that he would do anything. A wicked grin spread over Hermione's face, and Draco knew he had gone too far.

"Here's the deal," Hermione said, a bit too sweetly. "I'll go to the Three Broomsticks with you, provided you buy an S.P.E.W badge and wear it proudly for at least a week."

"I'm not wearing a badge that says _spew_," Draco said flatly.

"Then you're definitely not going to the dance with me," Hermione said in the same happily airy tone.

She clearly thought he was defeated, but if she thought he was going down that easily, she did not know him very well at all. Draco tucked away the small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth and replaced it with a superior sort of grimace. "Hermione, no one is ever going to take a society called 'spew' seriously."

"It's not spew," she retorted hotly. "It's S.P.E.W., the Society for the Promotion of Elvish Welfare."

"Well then that's another problem. 'Society for the Promotion of' sounds very weak. It's too wordy. And 'Elfish Welfare' makes it sound like the Elves are victims…"

"But they are victims!" Hermione said indignantly.

Draco shook his head. "That may be what you think they are, but this society is not promoting what they 'are' is it? It's supposed to promote what they want to be. Not what you or I think they want to be, but what they want. Which means they are going to have to take this into their own hands if they want anything to actually change. You, witches and wizards, can only do so much. The House Elves _themselves_ have to take things over if they want to change them, like the Goblins did."

"What would you call it then?"

"See, S.E.E., Society for Elvin Empowerment."

Hermione looked stunned. "That way you have a useful acronym," Draco explained. "Most wizards don't run into House Elves on a daily basis and those that do tend to ignore them. You have to get them to recognize the House Elves plight, to _see_ them, before they will want to do anything about it. And it's really all about _empowering_ the Elves to be able to deal with their problems, address their grievances and so on."

"You've been _thinking_ about this," said Hermione. Her expression had gone from stunned to purely incredulous. "When did you come up with that name?"

Draco looked down to admire the wood grain on the table. "Fourth year."

"_Fourth year_. And you've been having a good laugh at me for three years?"

"It's not like you would have listened to a suggestion from me, anyway, is it?" Draco pointed out.

Hermione's eyes softened a bit. They were almost sad. They made Draco feel a little sad at any rate. "I might have."

He swallowed, wondering for a moment what life might have been like if he had been less of a coward in fourth year. More complicated, certainly, but he wondered if it would have been worth it. Would his father had disowned him or his friends forsaken him then? Would Hermione have softened towards him simply for renaming an organization he did not believe in? Would she soften now? "So what do you think of it?" he asked.

"It's brilliant," she said grumpily. Draco smiled. There was no point in worrying about fourth year. All he had was this year or the next few months. What he wanted now was very simple.

"So how about this deal?" he said. "You change the name from 'spew' to Society for Elvin Empowerment. I'll wear an S.E.E. badge for a week. I'll even help you change over the old badges, and we'll celebrate the renaming by you letting me buy you a drink at the Three Broomsticks come this next Hogsmeade weekend?"

"You have to tell anyone who asks exactly what it stands for," Hermione said shrewdly. "AND you have to wear it where everyone can see, right under your prefect badge."

"Fine," Draco said. "But if things go well in Hogsmeade, you'll go to the leaving dance with me?"

"_If_ they go well," Hermione said. _Yes, victory! You have been out Slytherin-ed, Gryffindor_. "And if someone I actually like doesn't ask me before then."

Draco frowned. His victory crumbled with this new and unwelcome factor. "Who do you actually like?"

"That is none of your business," Hermione said smugly. "If I see you even once without that badge during the week or if I get wind that you have been anything less than complete in your answer to _anyone_ who asks you about it, the deal is off."

Draco sighed. She could be bluffing. There was no guarantee that some dashing unwelcome factor would snatch her up before Hogsmeade. "You drive a hard bargain," he said and extended his hand for Hermione to shake.

Hermione just looked at his hand contemptuously. "No one said I had to touch you," she said and snatched up Most Potente Potions to act as a barrier.

Crestfallen, Draco pulled his hand back. "How are we going to dance, if you won't let me touch you?"

"Well, that's something else for you to figure out," Hermione said breezily.

Draco rolled his eyes this time. "Fine, I'll bring gloves."

Hermione was saved from reacting by the bathroom door opening. "Sorry I'm late," Persephone said as she slipped inside. "Did I miss anything?"

Hermione was a little cooler to Persephone after that, but Draco doubted that Persephone noticed. She was delighted by the suggested name change. The announcement was followed by a long debate where Persephone tried to get Hermione to modify the manifesto as well. Draco did his best to stay out of the argument and made an obvious pretense of performing delicate tasks involving the potion. One of them was so obvious both girls stopped arguing long enough glare at him a bit. When he simply exaggerated his performance, both of them had to fight off laughter.

Myrtle returned, distracting Persephone, and Draco snuck Hermione a wink, which had the opposite effect of any reaction for which he might have hoped.

He was having trouble reading Hermione. He was able to drag her into long discussions about their experiments in Potions class, but she kept everything purely academic. She refused to look more than mildly amused at any jokes he tried to make. She had started speaking to him in Astronomy but only enough to give him a very formal greeting and business like smile before taking her seat.

Draco had trouble figuring out how Persephone stood on his uncertain success with Hermione. She was a little distracted in general. Any mention of Hermione on his part was followed by a suggestion that he should join the D.A. on hers. "I've gotten some other Slytherins to join. There's-"

"Don't tell me," Draco shushed her. "And stop changing the subject. Tell me what to do about _Hermione_."

"I bet joining the D.A. would impress her."

"Persephone."

"You have to be honest with her," Persephone said, not looking very encouraging.

"About what?" Draco asked.

"About things," Persephone said. "Everything. Relationships need trust, and to get Hermione to trust you, you'll have to give her a reason."

"I don't want a relationship," Draco said.

"What do you want then?" asked Persephone.

"I just want to dance with her," Draco drawled.

"Why?"

"So I can…" _work out this mess in my head and_ _decide whether or not I want a relationship with her_. Draco groaned and worked his fingers through his hair. "Do you think it will work? Will she go to the dance with me?"

"How should I know?" Persephone bit at him. "I can't see the future!" She had crossed her arms grumpily and refused to be cheered up. Still she had given him chances to work beside and even be alone with Hermione.

o

* * *

o

Their time together on the potion was running out. In mid-March they left it to set. The potion needed to be checked daily, just in case it changed color, but Persephone volunteered to do that. Draco and Hermione were more than happy to let her do it. Persephone stayed behind to talk to Myrtle and let Draco and Hermione leave together.

Trouble was that though Hermione was walking with him (and it had to be significant that she was walking with him towards the Great Hall and not running away) he was having trouble thinking of anything to say to her. If it had been Pansy or some other girl, he may have made the attempt to take her hand, but Hermione had made it pretty clear that she did not want to be touched. He wondered if this was a general issue with her or something particular to him. Probably him.

The feeling of hopelessness washed over him again. Determined to say something, anything to abate this terrible silence she was assaulting him with, Draco's mind cast on the topic of house-elves. "So when are we going to work on the badges?" he asked.

"Oh," Hermione said. "I thought you'd forgotten."

_Evil. Evil, evil, witch, you know I haven't._ Draco bit his tongue, letting the sharp but mild pain clear his head. _She may be teasing. Tease back_. "I was starting to think you had," he said, giving her a slightly indignant look.

"Of course, _I_ haven't," Hermione said. Her tone was exasperated, but Draco thought that might have been a bit put on.

"So when are we working on them?" Draco tried again.

Hermione worked her jaw a minute before answering. "I've got a lot studying to do this week. So Friday after next."

"Friday after next?" Draco said, rather disappointed that he would have to go a weekend without a project with Hermione.

"I have a test."

Draco put on a mock-forlorn expression. "But, Hermione, think of the poor house-elves."

Hermione snorted. "Like you really care about the house-elves."

She did have a point. The girl savvy thing to say in response would have been something along the lines of _I care about you_, but Draco had the added handicap of needing to be honest. Honestly, he was not sure if he cared about Hermione. The dance thing was rather selfish on some level. If Draco was really honest, it was something he needed to do to sort out his own head more than it was something for Hermione.

She would probably be happier if he crawled under a rock somewhere and left her to pursue whomever it was she really liked. Assuming of course that unwelcome factor existed. Draco thought some bitter thoughts towards this unwelcome factor complicating his life. He wondered if it was a prince or a dragon trying to carry off his princess.

"What test are you studying for?" The worse thought came creeping up on him that he might be the unwelcome factor.

"Arithmancy," Hermione said, killing Draco's plans of offering to be a study partner. Why hadn't he taken Arithmancy? Why would Hermione even let him negotiate with her if she had some beau waiting? He would have backed off if she was dating someone. Either her intolerable cruelty knew no limits, or she was uncertain of her prince charming.

Six and a half years of watching Hermione from afar, when reviewed honestly, did not incline Draco to think she was intolerably cruel by nature. This lead him to believe she was uncertain of this other, assuming of course her "someone I actually like" was a specific someone rather than general optimism.

The Great Hall was looming closer with all its eyes and ears. Draco decided if this other was not willing to put forward some effort with Hermione that was his loss. "So badges, Friday after next," he agreed at last, deciding not to ask for details now, because that would give him an excuse to talk to her in Astronomy later.

"Sure," Hermione said in a business like manner. She added, "Excuse me." when they reached the entry to the Great Hall and quickened her pace.

Draco followed her in more slowly and watched her brightly greet her friends at the Gryffindor table before taking his seat with the Slytherins.

Crabbe, Goyle, and Millicent greeted him, and Draco attempted to look just as bright in case Hermione was watching. Not that she was watching, at least he did not think so. His back was towards the Gryffindor table. He resisted the urge to twist around and check. He faced his friends, knowing he would have to tell them eventually. Maybe after the badges were ready.

"You know there've been rumors going around about you and Granger," Crabbe said.

Draco lifted his eyebrows. "What sort of rumors?"

"That you've been sneaking off together," Millicent said. "Least that's what Josephine Bogland was saying. She thinks you've been snogging in the broom shed." Draco raised his eyebrows further. _Now, that was an idea_. Crabbe was not enjoying the mental image as much as Draco was, however. His face was contorted into a look of pure disgust.

"What did you tell her?" Draco asked Millicent.

Millicent shrugged. "Persephone told me you were both tutoring her. I told her that. She looked disappointed."

_Not half as disappointed as I am_, Draco thought.

"Josephine needs to learn to keep her big mouth shut," Crabbe said loyally. "Should we teach her a lesson?"

Draco shook his head. "No," Draco said. "I think that would just help lend credence to Josephine's little theory."

"Yeah, no one in their right mind would believe you and Granger anyway," Goyle said helpfully. Millicent nodded encouragingly. Crabbe nodded more reluctantly, obviously preferring to right this wrong than let it slide.

Draco knew he was letting an opportunity slide, but he decided he might as well dedicate the next two weeks to his friends. They were likely to desert him when the two weeks were up anyway.

o

* * *

o

Draco kept up with his classes at this point mainly out of habit, and because he thought Hermione would think even less of him if he let his grades slip. More and more he felt his time at Hogwarts was slipping away. It was time to say goodbye and wrap up any unfinished business. Death Eater attack or no, he would be gone by the end of the year. Gone from school, gone from England. It was a sobering thought, but a liberating one as well.

What was the point in worrying about social standing, if you were not planning to stay in the society? He had no interest in making himself more of a target. Still the more internally detached he became from keeping face at Hogwarts, the sillier his friends and teammates conversations seemed. Particularly since Crabbe and Goyle seemed to think it was their mission in life to agree with him. He wondered how far they would go in that regard. If he thumbed his nose at all their fathers had taught them, would his friends follow suit?

His two weeks without Hermione were not entirely without Hermione. She took all his classes but staring at her from across the room while Potter shot him annoyed looks was hardly as gratifying as talking to her.

They were more or less alone in Astronomy, but if he had hoped for deep and meaningful conversation under the stars he was sorely disappointed. Hermione was distracted and short tempered. Draco believed for once this had nothing to do with him, so he did not press her too far.

He filled any spare time with extra Quidditch practices. The air was beginning to turn warm again, and it was a pleasant time to be outside with his friends.

The good weather had little effect on Hermione's mood. She met him in the library on the Friday after next, looking every bit as serious as she had in their last two Astronomy classes.

"Is there something bothering you?" Draco dared to ask.

"No, why?" Hermione asked shortly.

Draco shrugged. "You just seem a bit tense."

"Well, we have N.E.W.T.s coming up, and Voldemort may come crashing through the window at any moment," Hermione said in a forcibly casual tone. "But I don't see why that should be of any concern."

Draco could not tell her that either of those things was untrue or no reason to be tense. He tried a slightly different subject. "How did your Arthimancy test go?"

"Fine," Hermione said snappily and placed a bucket of badges on the table. "Let's get this done quickly. I have a lot of studying to do."

"What for this time?" Draco asked.

"The N.E.W.T.s," Hermione said as though this was painfully obvious to anyone with a brain.

"You're studying for those already?" Draco asked. "I was planning to wait 'til after Easter Holidays."

"That's your decision," Hermione said. "I actually want to do well."

"Naturally, you're going to do well," Draco said. He felt the smallest hint of bitterness that Hermione was letting her studying get in the way of their time together. He picked up the one of the badges and realized that was a very selfish thing to think. "Then again you have more classes than I do right?"

"Yes," Hermione said impatiently. She took a badge, tapped her wand to it. The letters changed from S.P.E.W. to S.E.E. She tossed it back into the bucket, then scowled and fished it out again.

"Tell, you what," Draco said. "I'll do this and bring them back to you on Monday. You can go study."

Hermione looked at him suspiciously.

"I promise I won't steal them," Draco said. He held up the badge Hermione had modified. "Just make them look like this right?"

"Yes," Hermione said. "But-"

"If I don't get them to you on Monday, I won't hold you to having a drink with me in Hogsmeade," Draco said. He gave her a soft smile. "I'm glad it's not too far away though. You seem like you could use a day off."

Draco stood and picked up the bucket before she could form an argument. Hermione took a breath and picked up her book bag. She gave Draco an odd look. "Monday," she repeated. Draco was very glad to hear some of the snappishness had gone out of her voice. She took a step them paused. "Malfoy, why are you doing this? You don't even like me."

"Course, I like you," Draco said. "I wouldn't ask you to the dance if I didn't like you." The words dropped out his mouth before he really had a chance to think them over. He reviewed them after they were out and decided to leave them unamended.

Hermione's mouth opened slightly, but she said nothing, just creased her brow a bit and walked off.

Draco looked at the bucket, then up at the ceiling of the library. He was distracted by the height for a moment. Staring at the library ceiling was possibly something he had never done before. It was formed with crossed arches, looked light and immobile. It seemed so high that even if it fell Draco thought gravity would lose interest before it reached the bookcases. In truth the library ceiling was not much higher than the ceiling in the Great Hall, but the room was narrower, which gave it the illusion of added height.

Having wasted enough time on the ceiling, Draco looked down at the bucket again. "I've gone mad," he said quietly and smiled to himself as he made his way back to the Slytherin dungeons.

o

* * *

o

He spent the evening sitting on his bed, transfiguring the badges, and thinking about Hermione and N.E.W.T.s. He spent the weekend trying to get other Slytherins to buy a badge. If he was going to wear one, there was no reason why he had to do it alone. He had more luck with the younger students, though Bardolf told him he was off his broom.

The older students were more resistant. He got many, many stunned looks of disbelief, and several people flat out laughed at him. He tried to look at it as a game and a challenge. If he was going to go out of favor among the Slytherins he figured he might as well go out with a bit of a bang. He charmed, argued, and otherwise persuaded a fair number of Slytherins to buy badges. His energy was spent by Sunday afternoon. He simply tossed badges for Crabbe and Goyle at them and demanded two sickles apiece.

"What for?" Goyle asked.

"The badges," Draco said. "I'm going to be wearing one next week, and I don't want to be the only one."

"But why?" Crabbe asked. "What's S.E.E. stand for anyway?"

"Society for Elvin Empowerment," Draco said.

Crabbe and Goyle scrunched up their faces in confused. "Sounds like that spew stuff the Mudblood started a few years back," Crabbe said.

"Yes, I renamed the group," Draco said. "Much less silly now. And don't call her a Mudblood."

"Why not?" Crabbe asked, looking at Draco strangely.

"It's been done," Draco said with a shrug. "Besides it's rude."

"But you-"

"Crabbe, Goyle, I am surprised at you," Draco interrupted. "You can't donate two sickles to support the creatures that cook, clean, and do your laundry. You didn't spend all your money at Honeydukes last Hogsmeade visit did you?"

Even Draco was not sure entirely how he did it, but eventually he got a very confused Crabbe and Goyle to cough up two sickles apiece.

o

* * *

o

On Monday, he presented the bucket with a few less badges to Hermione before Charms. Hermione's eyes flicked to his robes first, checking to see if he was wearing his own badge in the right place. "What's this?" she asked, taking notice of the small bag sitting atop the shiny badges.

"Those are the sickles for the badges I sold," Draco said.

"You sold badges?" Hermione repeated, looking incredulous.

Draco managed to keep a straight face. "That was okay, wasn't it? Two sickles a piece right?"

Hermione nodded and poked the bag experimentally. "How many did you sell?" she asked.

"About fifteen," Draco said. He continued on as though unaware of the shock in her expression. "Oh, and I think we ought to swap out with anyone you've already sold a badge to. Would be rather unfair to charge them twice."

"Of course I'll swap them," Hermione bit at him. She looked past Draco's shoulder and caught sight of Crabbe and Goyle on the other side of the room also wearing S.E.E. badges. Hermione's hand flew to her mouth. It was hard to say whether she was trying not to laugh or not to be sick. Draco just continued to smile benignly, ignoring all the blatant stares of other students who had noticed him and Granger talking.

Hermione seemed unable to take anymore. She turned sharply and walked to her seat where Weasley and Potter began interrogating her. Draco had a seat and got a fresh set of questions from Crabbe and Goyle. "All part of the larger plan," he assured them vaguely. He could tell neither of them was thrilled at being left out of this larger plan, but he was still hoping they would last out the week with him and did not want to explain further.

Flitwick tried to call the class to order, and Hermione finally lost her battle. She let out a loud, short laugh. "Sorry, Professor," she apologized, turning slightly pink.

"Quite all right, Ms. Granger," Flitwick said amiably. "A little laughter never hurt anyone."

As the week wore on however, Draco became less sure of that. He had expected some of the Slytherins to laugh, but it was more grating to hear it from the other houses. A few people figured out that he would always give a full pitch on the badges when asked and started asking just to annoy him. Justin Finch-Fletchley was among the worst of the offenders. By Thursday he was explaining the badges through gritted teeth. Crabbe and Goyle were cracking their knuckles at the irritants, but Draco, worried Hermione would take his friends interference as a breach of their agreement, held them back from pummeling the other students. Hermione seemed to find the whole thing extremely amusing. Draco was glad to see her smile and hoped he eased some of the tension that had been settling around her. Still by Saturday, he was questioning whether a date with Hermione was worth the humiliation. It was very hard not to spend the rest of the weekend hiding in his dorm room so that no one could ask him to explain what S.E.E. stood for.

The Slytherin girls seemed to have concluded that Draco had simply lost his mind. The looks they gave him now were almost pitying. Draco dropped the badge back into the depths of his trunk when the next Monday rolled around. A few people were disappointed, but no one seemed terribly surprised when he gave up on it. Several Slytherins came up to him asking him to explain what the joke was with the badges. Draco dodged the question by telling them that explaining it would make it not funny.

Persephone had been oddly absent during this stretch. She claimed the forum and the D.A. were keeping her busy. She was finally starting to buckle down on her studies. Their tutoring sessions seemed to be the only times Draco saw her.

Hermione Draco saw again in Astronomy. "I noticed you stopped wearing the badge the moment the week was up," she said when he sat down. They were still in the habit of speaking to each other in undertones and facing their own telescopes in the dark classroom.

"But I did wear it the whole week," Draco pointed out.

"Suppose it would be a bit hypocritical for you to continue on after that?"

"A bit," Draco said.

Hermione rolled her eyes.

"Don't be so high and mighty, Granger," Draco said. "You didn't wear yours at all last year."

"Yes," Hermione said. "But who wants to wear a badge that says _spew_ on it?" She gave Draco a wry smile, and his insides became a lot lighter. He smiled too. He wanted to look wry as well, but he was fairly certain his smile was more of the dopey variety.

"At least you bought a badge," Hermione continued. "Persephone says she believes in house-elf rights, but apparently not enough to put down two sickles."

"I don't think it's a matter of beliefs," Draco said softly. "It's the two sickles. When Persephone's parents died, all their money went to James, and all of James' money went to Harry. Snape's been buying all her school things for her. Persephone doesn't have two knuts to rub together."

Hermione looked stricken. "Oh, I didn't know. She must think I'm awful. I'll give her one later."

"You can charge Harry for it," Draco suggested.

"I'll give her one," Hermione repeated, and Draco decided to back off. Not worth losing what ground he had gained over two sickles.

"Easter holidays are coming up," he said, giving her a hopeful glance. "Do you want to do some study sessions? About time I start preparing for my N.E.W.T.s."

Hermione tossed her head to the side just enough to make the moon light shift over the strands. "I only agreed to one predate, Malfoy."

Draco had not really expected her to accept, but he felt oddly encouraged that she was toying with him. That was a normal thing girls did with boys. Normal for Slytherin girls at least.

"Besides," Hermione continued in a more practical tone. "I have to get Harry and Ron started."

Potter. Once again getting what Draco wanted. _Potter_. But Draco could not drudge up any jealousy at the moment. It was not like Hermione was going to be alone with another boy. Besides Potter could use the support. Draco wanted him well prepared.

Easter holidays were dedicated once again to Crabbe and Goyle. Draco forced them to start studying for the N.E.W.T.s. They went through subject-by-subject, starting with what they had learned first year and working their way up. Draco put most of his energy into Defense Against the Dark Arts since he had missed a year. Keeping up in class had not been too hard, but Draco was sure he had missed a few significant things from the sixth year course material. He still was not having any luck casting a patronus.

The studying continued on after the holidays had passed. Draco found himself absorbed in schoolwork once again, which gave him less time for moping. The weather had improved enough to make Quidditch practices extremely pleasant. Hufflepuff shocked everyone and beat Ravenclaw. It had been a wet match. Rain and fog hid the snitch, while Hufflepuff's Chasers made goal after goal. Ekin caught the snitch in the end, but too late, Ravenclaw lost by a mere ten points. Draco could not help giving Ekin a smug smile. Gryffindor was the current favorite for the Quidditch Cup, but Slytherin stood a chance if they beat them by a substantial margin in the last game. Draco was not optimistic, but Jonathan's enthusiastic determination kept him training hard. It would be nice to go out on a win.

o

* * *

o

He hardly saw Hermione except for classes and prefect meetings. Potter seemed to be taking Persephone's prediction seriously. He and Padma had the prefects performing drills for their new "emergency plans". These mainly consisted of holing the students up in the dormitories and seeing that everyone was accounted for. Pansy and some of the others scoffed, but Draco took the drills seriously. He also worked on his own emergency plans. If the Death Eaters attacked, the last place he wanted to be during an attack was trapped in the Slytherin dungeons.

Time passed quickly. There was a building tension similar to what Draco remembered from the months before the O.W.L.s, but this seemed more pressing and more intense. He had fewer subjects to study for this time, but there was the added pressure of needing to decide what to do after school. For most students this was a matter of applying for one career or another. For Draco it was more a matter of which country. Persephone made it very clear that she intended to stay in England with Harry and Snape, and only in his daydreams would Draco dare ask Hermione to go with him. His future was looking very lonely. Still that was better than death, wasn't it?

Everyone in the school, Draco included, was glad when the last Hogsmeade weekend arrived. He picked out a blue shirt that brought out what color he had in his eyes and took extra care with his appearance. Hermione had agreed to meet him at eleven in the Three Broomsticks, so Draco walked into the village with Crabbe, Goyle, and Millicent. He spent the morning following them from Honeydukes to the Quidditch supply shop to Scrivenshaft's. They even stopped at Gladrags so Millicent could look at dress robes.

"I'm not taking that long," Millicent said when she noticed Draco checking his watch.

"No," Draco said. "I just promised to meet someone. I don't want to be late."

"Who are you meeting?" Crabbe asked.

"Um." Draco decided he might as well tell them. The Three Broomsticks was hardly a private place. Everyone would know he had met with Hermione before the day was out. He fingered the fabric of a red robe on display. "Granger."

Goyle blinked. "Why?"

"Told her I'd buy her a drink," Draco said, trying very hard to look cool and not turn pink.

"What for?" Millicent asked, looking highly disturbed by the idea.

"Trying to talk her into going to the Leaving Dance with me," Draco said with shrug. He reminded himself of a turtle trying to hide his head between his shoulders and forced himself to straighten. No one should ever be able to fault a Malfoy on their posture.

"You're joking," Crabbe said, with a very similar expression to Millicent's.

"No, I'm not joking," Draco said, sticking his hands in his pockets. Now all three of them were staring blankly at him. It was fun in a strange way.

"Why?" Crabbe managed at length.

"All the obvious reasons," Draco said.

Millicent crossed her arms. "What are you up to, Draco?"

"Up to?"

"You're obviously up to something," Millicent said. "It's not fair to leave us out."

"Life's unfair," Draco said flippantly and glanced at his watch again. "And I don't want to be late. So, I'll see you three later." Draco turned smartly and walked away.

"Hey, Malfoy!" he heard Crabbe call after him but feigned otherwise. He was vaguely aware that they were following him but chose to ignore that as well. While it was true that he did not want to be late, there had been no real danger of it. Draco arrived at the Three Broomsticks a quarter of an hour early. Pansy and her group were already there. They gave him cool, mildly surprised looks. This was the first time he had left the castle grounds since school began. Draco took a seat in a small booth between two occupied ones.

Crabbe, Goyle, and Millicent entered a few moments later. Draco fiddled with his cuffs, so he did not have to think about how silly he looked sitting in the booth by himself. His friends took the hint and did not approach him. Instead Crabbe led Goyle and Millicent towards Pansy's table and started speaking quickly to them. Draco could guess at the subject. Pansy's eyes went as round as saucers as she glanced over at Draco. Draco tried very hard not to meet her gaze. He was peripherally aware that Crabbe, Goyle, and Millicent joined Pansy's table. He was starting to wish he had not been in such a rush to get away. Sitting alone was making him nervous. He did not want to watch the door since he knew he was being watched. He let his eyes roam around the room, trying to give off a nonchalant air.

The Weasley twins entered. They were hard to miss. They stopped to flirt with Madam Rosmerta, who led them to a large table on the far side of the room. Rosmerta stopped at Draco's table on her way back to the bar. "Do you want something to drink, dear?"

"I'm waiting for someone," Draco said, not knowing why that simple question had managed to increase his heart rate. Nerves. He was more nervous than he had thought. "But I will." Rosmerta simply smiled and walked on. Rosmerta's passing had directed Draco's eye back to the door. He saw Hermione enter, followed by Potter and Weasley. She glanced at Draco, but Ron directed her attention towards Fred and George who were waving animatedly from their table. The trio walked passed Draco and the other Slytherins, who were watching Hermione intently. Harry and Ron sat down across from Fred and George and looked at Hermione expectantly. She stood with her hands propped on the back of the chair at the end of the table. Draco could not see her face or hear her voice, but from her body language and the Weasley brother's reaction, he believed they were chatting pleasantly.

His increased heart rate was beginning to turn into a full-blown panic. When he told Hermione that he would buy her a drink, had he specified that it would involve them sitting together and talking? Draco put his hands on the brown sugar bowl in the center of the table and stared at it as though the bowl was his last grip on reality. Surely she was not cruel enough to sit with her friends and simply tell Rosmerta to put her drink on his tab. With horror, he realized that would technically fit their agreement. He tried to tell himself that if she had fun laughing at him with her friends that would technically mean she should accept his dance offer. In that case however, he was not so sure he wanted to dance with her.

"Hey," Hermione said, slipping into the opposite side of the booth. Draco looked up and felt his anxieties drop off like a heavy cloak. "Hello," he said, managing a relieved smile. She did not seem to have taken any special care with her appearance, no eye shadow, maybe some lip gloss. Her brown striped cardigan was not particularly flattering but not unflattering. Draco thought she looked fine. She also looked bored. The awkward silence was hanging heavy between them.

"I really didn't expect us to have an audience," he said apologetically.

Hermione glanced at the table of Slytherins who were sneaking frequent looks at them and vacillating between shock and amusement. "Not too subtle are they?" she commented dryly.

"No," Draco agreed. "But then, neither are your friends." Hermione had to look over her shoulder to see. Potter and the Weasleys were glaring steadily in Draco's direction. "They act like they think I'm going to attack you."

Hermione just smiled fondly in her friends' direction, before turning her head back. "They're just worried about me."

"I'm _not_ going to attack you, you know."

"I know," Hermione said. "They'd hex you into a thousand pieces if you tried."

Draco felt cut. That was not what he had meant at all. "I wouldn't hurt you." Hermione just gave him a look. Draco could not describe it, but it made him feel helpless. "We've been alone before and nothing happened."

"Well, they don't know that," Hermione said quietly.

"Oh," Draco said. Naturally anything to do with the Younging Potion needed to be kept secret. "I guess not. I suppose they were a bit surprised, when you said you were going to meet me."

"A bit," Hermione said. "They didn't like it." Draco glanced at the Gryffindors again. _That_ was clearly understatement.

"Are you ready for drinks now?" Rosmerta asked, stepping up to their table.

"Could I see a menu?" Hermione asked primly. Rosmerta summoned a couple of menus. Hermione disappeared behind hers, and Rosmerta winked at Draco. He gave her a grateful smile in return.

"You're paying right?" Hermione asked in a casual tone that was more of a reminder than a question.

Draco decided to take it in stride and smiled. "That was the idea, yes."

"I'll try the Wizard Blizzard," Hermione said, handing the menu back to Rosmerta. "Never had one of those before."

Draco's eyes found the drink's price. She would have ordered the most expensive thing on the menu. Last year he would have been thrilled to show off his ability to casually buy the finer things, but he was painfully aware now how quickly his galleons could run out if he did not watch his spending. "I'll just have a water, please." Rosmerta gave him another knowing smile and patted his shoulder as she walked back to the bar.

Hermione gave him a surprised and somewhat amused look. "Are you being frugal?" she said, sounding genuinely shocked by the concept.

"Well, I can't ask my parents for money anymore," Draco admitted.

"They cut you off?"

"If they haven't, they will," Draco said. "Even if they didn't, I'm not sure I could take money from them right now."

Hermione looked a little ashamed of herself. "I could order something cheaper," she offered quietly.

Draco shook his head. "It's okay. I can cover it."

"But if-"

"I told you I'd get you anything you wanted," Draco said. "I'm not going back on my word. Don't worry about it."

Hermione studied him for a long moment. Rosmerta reemerged with their drinks. She set a large elaborate glass with multicolored liquid before Hermione and a simple water glass before Draco. "Do you want me to bring two straws?" she asked helpfully.

Hermione looked like she was trying not to make a face. "No, thank you," Draco said, trying to mix a little gratitude into his smile for Rosmerta's sake and a little embarrassment for Hermione's. Hermione seemed to be struggling with her desire to be fair and her repulsion at the idea of sharing drinks, so Draco added, "That sounds unsanitary anyway." after Rosmerta left.

"Ah," Hermione said, stirring her drink experimentally. "Because I'm Muggle-born."

"No," Draco said slowly, feeling rather at a loss. "Because…it's unsanitary."

Hermione gave him a look that somehow managed to be bored and slightly amused, pitying and resentful all at once. "Oh yes, I forgot. You've fallen deeply in love with me, and suddenly gotten over your aversion to all things Muggle related."

"No, I-" Draco floundered, not sure which part to object to since she was clearly being sarcastic. "That's not…I stayed at a Muggle hotel this summer."

"With another girl," Hermione continued in the same tone. "I should be jealous."

If Draco actually thought she was jealous, he might have been encouraged, but Hermione knew the entire story by now. "You shouldn't be jealous," Draco tried to echo her tone. "After all I'm deeply in love with you."

Hermione snorted. "I'm clever, Malfoy, not gullible. You can cut the act."

Draco opened his mouth but was having trouble finding words. He thought he had been cutting out the act. "I'm not acting."

"So you're deeply in love with me?"

"Well, no, not exactly," Draco squirmed. "I just…I like you."

Hermione snorted again, more softly this time. "What exactly is it you want from me?"

"I just…" Draco started to say _want a dance_ but doubted that would be enough of an answer for Hermione. And Persephone had given him that whole honesty lecture. "I don't know exactly. That's what I'm trying to work out. I know that I want you to not hate me anymore."

"I don't hate you," Hermione sighed and took a sip from her Wizard Blizzard.

"You don't trust me either," Draco said.

"No, I don't," Hermione admitted. "But you haven't given me much reason to."

"What sort of reasons do you need?" Draco asked.

"A little honesty wouldn't hurt."

"I can be honest," Draco said earnestly. Hermione raised her eyebrow. "Go ahead, ask me anything."

"All right. Why don't you start by telling me what happened this last summer?"

"Anything except that."

"Malfoy, how do expect anyone to trust you if insist on keeping secrets like that?"

"Have I asked you one thing about what Potter or the D.A. was planning?"

"No," Hermione said, brushing some hair away from her face. "But I'm sure Persephone tells you everything."

"She doesn't actually," Draco said. "I hardly see her anymore."

"She has been busy," Hermione conceded. Maybe she was remembering that Draco had been surprised by the news of the predicted attack on the school, or maybe that she had been unfairly paranoid about Persephone before. "Fine. If you're so determined to stay neutral, why the sudden interest in me?"

"It's not sudden," Draco said, wondering how to explain. "I've just decided to stop pretending I wasn't interested."

Hermione gave his an icy look over the top of her Wizard Blizzard. "If you tell me you've been such an ass all these years cause you've been repressing feelings for me, I think I might hurl the rest of this drink at you."

Draco glanced at the Gryffindors who were still glaring. He was sure they would like nothing better than to see Hermione hurl her drink at him. "No, I hated you too for a while," he said quietly. "Made it all very complicated."

Hermione shook her head as though she was trying to see things from his point of view and found it headache inducing. "Just because I'm Muggle-born."

"It wasn't just that," Draco said. "Part of it, but it was a lot more complicated." Draco met Hermione's sharp eyes. "You were the first thing my father was wrong about."

Hermione's brows knitted together.

Draco dropped his gaze, focusing on his water glass. "You have to understand how I was raised."

"Is the part where you tell me about your troubled childhood?" Hermione quipped.

Draco frowned. "What are you talking about? I had a great childhood."

"You mean you were spoiled?"

"Maybe a bit," Draco said. "Not as much as you'd think though. It wasn't just toys and trips. My parents were really attentive. Father was strict about some things, but he was always _there_. He included me in everything. I could talk to him about everything." Draco swallowed. "At least I used to be able to. I thought he could do no wrong. Everything he said had to be right, just because he said it. I didn't have any reason to question it.

"Mudbloods…Muggle-borns were supposed to be inferior. They weren't supposed to do as well at school. They didn't have any background. They shouldn't be able to. My father was a school governor. He should know. He was always telling me what a waste of resources it was to let them into the school in the first place." Draco took a drink to moisten his lips. "And then there was you. Raised like a Muggle and outdoing everyone in the year."

"You wanted me dead cause I was out doing you in classes?"

"You weren't just out doing me in classes. You were doing something that I'd been raised to think couldn't be possible. You were proving my father could be wrong about something. You were showing the cracks in my view of reality." Draco frowned. "But I never said I wanted you dead."

Hermione gave a bitter laugh. "Liar. You did so."

"When?"

"Christmas, second year. Harry and Ron told me."

"I didn't…" Draco's brows knitted together. Christmas of second year was a long time ago. It had been the first Christmas he had spent at Hogwarts. His father had wanted him to, making some excuse about business that Draco did not believe. He had been rather upset about it and bullied Crabbe and Goyle into staying with him. "I didn't even talk to them that Christmas. Maybe I did say something to Crabbe and Goyle about it, but that was in the Slytherin common room. I certainly never said anything to you lot so I don't see…" Crabbe and Goyle had disappeared for a while and claimed to wake up in a broom closet. Draco had accused them of getting drunk on cordials, since neither of them had been acting like themselves. "You checked out Most Potente Potions in second year…and you made Polyjuice? And Harry and Ron disguised themselves as Crabbe and Goyle?" He could tell from Hermione's face he was right. "Why?"

Hermione grimaced. She seemed to have an internal debate over whether to say more and shrugged as though she did not see what harm it could do now. "We thought you were the heir of Slytherin."

Draco raised his eyebrows. "Really? I'm flattered." Hermione gave him an exasperated look. "Look, I didn't mean it. I was twelve. Twelve-year-old boys say a lot of things they don't mean. I was pretty horrified when you got petrified, actually. I was just talking big. Didn't think anything would come of it. I thought I was alone with my mates." Hermione gave him a flat look as though to say she did not see how that made things any better. "You're gonna tell me that none of the Weasleys or Potter over there has _ever_ expressed a desire to see me dead."

Hermione's mouth twitched. "Maybe once or twice." She successfully fought down her smile and gave him her cold, business like look again. "That's hardly the only thing you ever said about me. You must have called me a Mudblood a hundred times."

"It never seemed to bother you," Draco said, shifting uncomfortably. "Did it?

"I'm not ashamed of having Muggle parents," Hermione said. "I chose not to let anything that you or your friends said bother me. But the attitude behind it bothers me, yes."

"I stopped," Draco said. It was the only defense he had.

"I noticed," Hermione said. There was a subtle shift in her tone that said this might be a small point in Draco's favor. "The question is whether the attitude behind it has changed."

Draco went back to staring at his water glass. He had given the matter very little thought over the past few months. Yes, he had thought about Hermione a good bit and started working past his aversion to her parentage, but she was special. He had considered hiding among the Muggles, but that was more in the interest of survival than having taken any sort of liking to them.

Hermione made an impatient sound.

"I'm thinking," Draco said, trying to curb the irritation in his voice. He was not sure he had ever given serious thought to how he felt about Muggles. His father's feelings on them had been clear, and Draco had regurgitated everything his father had fed him with enthusiasm. His friends had nodded and applauded, so he had not seen much reason to re-evaluate any of it. But obviously he had been doing just that on some level. Otherwise he would be sitting and laughing with Pansy and the others right now instead of alone in a booth with Hermione.

"Don't strain yourself," Hermione said.

It was Draco's turn to give Hermione an exasperated look. "I don't have it all worked out yet, all right? I think the killing may go too far, but there are some very practical reasons for keeping the magical world separate. We're different. They don't exactly like us either."

Hermione tapped her fingers on the table. Draco was worried she might still be irritated with him, but she looked thoughtful. "You know I never really fit in growing up in the Muggle world. My family loved me. I had some playmates when I was really little, but I never made any real friends at school. I was starting to think there was something wrong with me. I was different somehow. My parents said I was special, but that's just the sort of thing parents say.

"I was so excited when I got my Hogwarts letter, because it meant there wasn't anything wrong with me. I wasn't imagining it. I really was different. Special. There was this whole new world opened up to me, and it was wonderful and magical. And I knew I'd finally found the place where I belonged. I was so certain that Hogwarts would be different. I was going to fit in and have no trouble making friends. But it's not really that different. The lessons were grand, but I still didn't fit it. I still couldn't make any friends on my own. You and your friends made it pretty clear I wasn't wanted here either. If it hadn't been for Harry and Ron and that troll, I don't know if anything ever would have changed." She smiled softly, ironically, but there was a glisten of moisture in her eyes. "They saved me."

Draco felt like a gaping hole had opened in his chest. He had honestly come to think of Hermione as invulnerable. He realized he had been rude, but he had never thought he had actually managed to hurt her. It had frustrated him, forced him to see her as something untouchable and unattainable. He could see now, for all her connections and accomplishments, Hermione was a girl, and he had hurt her very badly. "I'm sorry."

"Forget it," Hermione said, taking a quick swipe at her eyes before any of the moisture could spill over and resuming her superior manner as though she was embarrassed to have mentioned it.

Draco put his hand over hers and stared straight into her eyes until she met them. "Please, Granger, I don't do the sincere apology thing very often. I'm sorry I hurt you. I'm truly and genuinely sorry. I want to fix it. I just don't know how."

Hermione looked at Draco's hand clasped over hers on the table. Her expression was unreadable. Draco remembered her wish not to be touched and withdrew his hand. "Sorry," he murmured.

"You can't fix the past, Malfoy," Hermione said. "But if you can change, I can forgive you."

Draco nodded. The gaping in his chest had eased a bit. "You can call me Draco, you know." Hermione nodded as though to say she would consider the matter. He wanted to take her hand again or move closer, but he knew he had not earned that right yet. The audience had not taken kindly to that first light touch. The Slytherins had gone quiet, and Gryffindors were clutching the table as though resisting the impulse to rise. Draco resisted the urge to sneer at the lot of them and attempted to ignore them. "You know it's not like your entirely innocent," he said. "You've said some rather nasty things yourself."

"Like what?" Hermione asked, but not with as much bite as before.

"_At least no one on the Gryffindor team had to _buy _their way in_1," Draco found his voice going high and squeaky, imitating how Hermione's had sounded five years ago. He did a fair job capturing her speech pattern even if he could not fully imitate Hermione's voice. He really had not intended to imitate her at all. It had bubbled up from somewhere along with memory. He was not particularly surprised that he could remember those words so well. They had echoed over his head a thousand times.

Hermione eyes brows shot up, though. A smirk played on her lips. "Well, you did buy your way in, didn't you?"

_And you really are a Mudblood, aren't you?_ Draco grimaced and bit his tongue. "I spent every day that summer training for Quidditch, and I did really well during the tryouts," he said sulkily.

Hermione's smile now was almost fond. Draco was not sure whether or not he liked it. "What was I supposed to think?" she said. "You were showing off your new brooms and going on about how much money your father had. I'm sorry if I jumped to the wrong conclusion."

"Forget it," Draco said airily. "You weren't entirely wrong. Father promised to buy the brooms for us if I made it on the team. I just didn't really think about it as buying my way in until you said something. I just saw it as an incentive." Hermione smirked. "It's not funny. After we lost that first match, I started thinking you were right, drove me mad. I almost wished he hadn't done it."

"Almost?"

"Well, they were really good brooms."

Hermione rolled her eyes.

"And you hit me," Draco reminded her.

Hermione suffocated a chuckle. "I'm not apologizing for that. You deserved it."

"Did not," Draco said, playing up his sulking a bit. "You called me 'evil'. That was completely uncalled for."

"You were trying to get Hagrid fired!" Hermione said indignantly. "And you nearly got Buckbeak killed!"

"He should have been fired," Draco protested. "He was endangering students."

"Oh, please. That scratch you got from Buckbeak was entirely your fault. Hagrid told you not to insult the Hippogriffs!"

"He never told us they could understand English! And it wasn't a scratch," Draco kept his voice down, because he had no interest in helping the Slytherins eavesdrop. "He nearly tore my arm off."

"Oh, please," Hermione said. "You were milking that injury. Madam Pomfrey was able to regrow the bones in Harry's arm overnight. You weren't nearly as bad."

"Harry, didn't have any damaged nerves," Draco shot back. "Those take a lot longer mend. Buckbeak cut straight through the main one in my arm. _It hurt_."

"I still think you were milking it," Hermione said.

"Maybe a little," Draco conceded. "You want to blame me for the Blast-Ended Skrewts too?"

Hermione had started to take a drink and blew a few bubbles when she snorted a laugh. "No," she said, chuckling and shaking her head. "I think Hagrid can take full blame for those."

"Thank you!" Draco said as though he had just made some major point.

Hermione laughed. Draco could tell she was laughing at him, but his lips twitched as well. "Hagrid's improved a lot," Hermione said in a _let's be fair_ tone. "You might not mind the class so much if you had stuck with it."

"No thank you, had enough near brushes with death for one life time."

Hermione shrugged. Her laughing had not improved the Gryffindors' disposition any. They had finally tired of keeping up the constant glare but were taking turns now. Daphne was reenacting the taking of Hermione's hand at the Slytherin table. Pansy was not looking amused, but she said something derisive that made the others chuckle. Draco was glad the level of noise at the Three Broomstick kept him from hearing them. Harry was staring at them now. His green eyes narrowed.

"Can I ask you something?"

"Go ahead," Hermione said. She was still business like, but Draco felt like some of the hostility had gone.

"The rumors were pretty fuzzy. Were you and Potter ever actually dating?"

"No," Hermione said irritably. "I love Harry, but we're just friends, never dated. Can't believe everything you read in the _Daily Prophet_."

"I think that one was _Witch Weekly_," Draco said.

"No, the article with Viktor was _Witch Weekly_."

"Oh, right, Pansy's interview." Draco shrugged. "Well, _Witch Weekly's_ worse rubbish than the _Prophet_. But you were dating Viktor weren't you?"

"If you want to call it that," Hermione said. "We went to the Yule Ball. Spent some time in the library together. He showed me around the Durmstrang ship."

"I remember," Draco said. "He got me to help him write a couple of his love letters."

Hermione gave Draco a horrified look. "He did not."

"Did so," Draco said. "To be fair, they were mostly his thoughts. He just got me to help with the English and some of the phrasing. He didn't tell me who they were for either. Just said there was some pretty girl he had seen in the library. Imagine my shock. Let's see. How'd that one go?" He found himself imitating Viktor's thick accent. " 'I saw you by the bookshelves, and I think of you now every time I turn a page. I hope you will do me the honor of giving me your name, for I do not think I could find even the song of the Veela more entrancing.' "

Hermione dropped her forehead onto her hand, dark curtains of hair hiding the blush spreading across her cheeks.

Draco chuckled. "Don't worry he never showed me your replies."

"My replies weren't that bad," Hermione said, looking at Draco through slits in her fingers. "I did notice his letters were less…elegant after he left Hogwarts. I figured his English was just getting rusty. I can't believe Viktor. Why'd he ask _you_ for help anyway?"

"My English is good. I got him to give me some Quidditch pointers. He must of thought it was a fair trade. We had a bit of a fight about it after the Yule Ball."

"Blind with jealousy, were you?"

"Something like that," Draco admitted. "I called you a Mudblood, and he stopped talking to me. I'm sorry about that one too, but I lost a friend in the process so I think I was punished. I believe there might have been some threats to do me bodily harm in there as well."

"I guess I can forgive Viktor then," Hermione said, emerging from her hair curtain. She glanced at the Slytherins. "Please tell me you never told them."

"That I helped set up the pureblooded International Quidditch Champion Viktor Krum with Harry Potter's Muggle-born friend? No, I had planned to take that one to my grave." Draco glanced at the Gryffindors. "You wouldn't tell your friends would you?"

Hermione looked disturbed by the very idea. "Ron's bad enough about Viktor already."

"Good," Draco said. He doubted he would mind that much if Hermione did tell them, but he liked having secrets with her. He smiled at her. "I can't really blame Viktor. I'm sure it was more fun kissing you than trying to teach me Quidditch."

"Oh," Hermione said, not quite blushing this time, but looking as though she might. "We never really…"

"He didn't kiss you?" Draco asked. His insides were unfairly happy at the idea.

"Just my hand," Hermione said. "I'm sure he might have liked to do more, but I didn't really feel that attracted to him."

"So if you weren't dating Potter, and you didn't kiss Krum, have you ever been kissed?" Draco asked. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table. _Cause I'd be more than happy to volunteer…_

"Not on the lips, if that's what you mean," Hermione said primly.

"Pity."

"It's not a pity. It's a decision," Hermione said, sounding a little flustered.

"Well, it's not the end of world, but it's a little surprising."

"Cause you're such an expert."

"I'm not an _expert_, but I think it's a bit unusual to be seventeen-"

"I'm eighteen."

"Eighteen? And never have had your first kiss." He grinned at her. "It's kind of cute."

Hermione crossed her arms. "How old were you, then. When you had your first kiss?"

"On the lips? Nine."

Hermione looked disgusted. "Nine?"

Draco laughed. "It was just a quick peck. Parvati spent a whole week telling everyone I was her boyfriend. The adults thought it was adorable."

"Parvati Patil?"

"We used to play together when we were little. Pansy, Daphne, and the Patil twins were inseparable before Hogwarts and the great divide." Draco glanced over at the Slytherin table. He felt a twinge of nostalgia wondering what Crabbe and Goyle were thinking. "Everyone started sticking to their own houses."

"It happens," Hermione said. "I think our year was particularly bad."

Draco sensed they were getting back to things that were his fault again. "We should change that," he said with hopeful smile. "I think it would set a wonderful example for inter-house relations if you went to the Leaving Dance with me."

"Well, you're persistent," Hermione said. She glanced over at the Slytherins too. "It would be fun to watch Pansy's head explode. Then again, there's still the sticking point that I'm not even remotely interested in you. If you're having fantasies about snogging in the broom shed, you can put those out of your head right now."

"You heard that rumor, huh?"

"Hm, I'm not particularly looking forward to the new ones that are going to crop up," Hermione said grimly. "Malfoy, why don't you make things easier on yourself and take Pansy? She'd obviously like to go with you. Probably wouldn't mind the broom shed either."

"Probably," Draco said. "But then we get to the sticking point that I don't want to go with her."

Hermione smirked. "I can't say I blame you. She's as thick as a brick."

"No, she's not," Draco said. Hermione raised an eyebrow, and Draco sighed. "I don't know why she acts that way. She was always the top of the class at day school. Still makes pretty good marks in the subjects she applies herself to. It's like somewhere along the way someone told her that boys didn't like smart girls, and she took it to heart."

"You seemed pretty taken with her back in fourth year."

Draco felt his lips twitch, glad to know Hermione had paid that much attention to him. "Third year, I thought she had hung the moon. I think I knew by fourth year something was off, but I also knew she wouldn't turn me down. It was easier to ask her than risk rejection. Besides she was pretty and she liked me and my parents liked her and so on…"

"So what happened?"

"Nothing really," Draco said. "I think that was the problem. She never changed. The rest of us grew up, and Pansy's just like she was during third year. She got taller, but everything else is the same. She still has the same hair cut." Draco gave Hermione a resigned smile. "Besides it's boring, isn't it, the two Slytherin prefects? When everyone expects you to do something, part of you wants to avoid it just to prove them wrong. Does that make any sense?"

Hermione looked down at the table. "Yes, that makes sense."

"I guess it would be stupid if that was the only reason I wasn't interested in her," Draco admitted. "I'd still be letting other people decide things for me. I'm tired of doing what I think everyone else expects from me."

"So you picked the girl your friends would most disapprove of to ask to Leaving Dance?"

"No, I picked the girl I most wanted to dance with to ask to the Leave Dance, regardless of what my friends say."

Hermione shifted in her seat and brushed back some of her hair. "So why doesn't your new found ability to think for yourself extend to standing up to Lord Voldemort?"

"Well, my friends may reject and ridicule me for showing interest in a Muggle-born girl, but they're not likely to _kill _me over it."

"That's right, I forgot," Hermione said. "You're a coward."

Draco leaned back in the booth and scowled at her. It was one thing to admit that he was not particularly brave, quite another to hear her say it. "Look at it this way, Granger. You're parents are Muggles. So you're a target for the Death Eaters anyway. Weasley's parents are already in the Order, so his standing against You-Know-Who doesn't put them in any further danger than they already put themselves. And Potter's are already dead, so he has the whole revenge motive. You all have vested interests in fighting this war and not much to lose from declaring the side you have. I on the other hand stand to lose everything simply by not taking the Dark Mark. If I openly oppose the Dark Lord, then I have to face the very real possibility that he would kill my parents in revenge."

"He might not," Hermione said softly. The derision at least had left her features.

"No, I'm sure if they agreed to kill me to prove their loyalty, he would be more than happy to spare them," Draco muttered.

There was pity in her eyes now. "Would they do that?"

Draco shrugged. "I'd rather not put them in the position where they have to choose."

Hermione took another sip of her drink and was quiet for a long minute.

"Do you still think I'm a coward?"

"Yes," Hermione said. "But I think you're a coward with a point." She tapped the side of her glass.

"Do you think you could stand dancing with a coward with a point?"

"I don't see why you're trying to start something with me if you're planning to run away," Hermione said stirring her drink.

"Well…" Draco paused. He had not so much been thinking of starting something as finishing something, but coming at it from that angle, the concept did seem pretty reprehensible. "Look, Granger, I'm not asking you to make an emotional investment in me. We can keep it platonic. Just a dance, nothing more. You're right. It would be unfair to ask for more if I'm going to leave."

"You can call me Hermione."

It was the presence of the audience this time that kept him from launching across the table to hug her. "So are we on?"

"I don't know." The urge to hug her died safely away. "I want you to stay." And back it came. "Not for me, for Harry." And now it was simply confused. "I know you don't think you're important, Draco, but you are." That was definitely on the list of things he never thought she would say. That might be on the list of things Draco never thought anyone would say. "The Slytherins in particular look up to you." That was doubtful. "You're a really competent wizard." _Who still can't conjure a patronus._ "And this is going to sound a little strange, and I doubt he'd ever admit it, but Harry respects you." Now, that was a pure attempt at empty flattery. "And we could keep your part in things quiet for as long as possible." _When had he gotten so insecure?_

"It's not that easy," Draco said in a whisper. "There's someone watching me and reporting back. I don't know who. It's too risky for me to do anything at this point. I'm likely to let something leak accidentally, and I don't think you'd thank me for it."

"You won't reconsider?" Hermione said.

_I might if you were a bit nicer to me_, Draco thought but decided that was an uncouth thing to say. Leave it to Hermione Granger to ignore a place where her feminine charms might be more persuasive and stick to making logical arguments. Not that he was going to tell her how to change his mind. "I can't."

Hermione sighed in a resigned sort of way. "Can you at least tell me what happened to Persephone?"

"Hermione, I can't," Draco said piteously. "Persephone's willing to let it go. Why can't you?"

"Persephone's not always the best judge of things," Hermione said. "Besides it's important to Harry."

"It won't affect Harry that much," Draco said. "I promise it has nothing to do with the war."

"Then why can't you tell me?"

"I just can't. I can't tell you anything."

Hermione was no longer looking at Draco. "Maybe you can tell me something," a new voice interrupted. The voice had a harsh quality that was kept soft and low but with an undertone that said it would be unwise to ignore. The man attached to the voice was not more encouraging. He was thickly built with the startings of a dark beard. "It's good to see you out of school, Mr. Malfoy." He dropped a piece of folded parchment on the table, gave Hermione a dark look, and flashed something that was more a baring of teeth than a smile before walking out of the pub.

Draco searched his memory, trying to decide whether he had seen the man before or not. He waited until the pub door had closed behind the man before reaching for the parchment with trembling hands. Hermione was sitting very stiffly, taking regular breaths. He sensed she understood. Though Draco had seen no mark, he was sure the man was a Death Eater.

He opened the parchment.

o

* * *

_Shrieking Shack. Now. Alone._

**1.** "Chamber of Secrets" Ch. 7


	17. The Trouble With Malfoy

**Disclaimer:** This story is based on the Harry Potter novels written by J.K. Rowling. All characters created by J.K. Rowling are owned by J.K. Rowling. The few characters created by me (i.e. Persephone, Hotchet, Kagome…) belong to me, but are available for use in other fics as long as I get credited as their creator. None of us are making any money off this and no infringement is intended.

* * *

o

**Level 1.7: The Trouble With Malfoy**

"Harry," Hermione said tentatively. "Do you really think you can do it? Can you kill your own grandfather?"

"He's not my real grandfather," said Harry. "Henry Potter was my real grandfather. Like you said. Voldemort and I are connected by blood, but then we were connected by blood before, weren't we? So this changes nothing."

Dumbledore examined Harry gravely. Clearly there was worry in his eyes, but there was also an undercurrent of respect.

"It all makes sense, now," said Harry. "I know you all think I should be upset, but this is the first time everything has made sense. And if Voldemort doesn't know. It gives us a weapon that he doesn't have. I think that's a good change."

"Indeed," said Dumbledore. "Does anyone else know about this?"

"Just the people in this room," said Harry. Persephone nodded.

"True or not I suggest keeping it that way," said Dumbledore, giving each of them a look as though placing a solemn trust.

"Mama wouldn't lie!"

"Persephone," Harry said in a reproving tone, choosing not to point out that either way his grandmother had led one of her children to believe a falsehood. He wrapped his hand around her upper arm, trying to be encouraging and keep her in check at the same time, like he imagined a big brother might. "I'm sorry to have disturbed you, Professor. I thought…"

"It's quite all right, Harry," said Dumbledore. "I am glad you did. You're welcome to do it again, though I suggest next time you observe the formalities of knocking and begin at a lower volume."

"Yes, sir. Sorry, sir," said Harry with chagrin. "I think that's all. We'll be going now."

Dumbledore waved his hand, and the office door clicked open. Harry steered Persephone out, and Ron and Hermione followed him down the stairs. It was a slow decent. They were all carrying heavy thoughts.

"You okay there, Ron?" asked Harry.

Ron started as though waking. "Yeah—I don't understand why you're so chipper about it though."

"It's a lot to take in, Harry," added Hermione.

"I'm not planning to send him Christmas cards or anything," said Harry, giving them both annoyed looks. "This doesn't change anything. I've always been connected to Voldemort, but now I know how."

Persephone shuddered and hugged herself. "I can't believe they're the same person. After Mama told me, I looked up Tom Riddle in the old school records. I got to like him in a strange way. He explained all the bits of James that I never understood."

Ron made a choked noise. "You have to be worst judge of character in history!"

Persephone whirled to look at him and flushed pink. "I never said he was admirable! He must have been a terrible person to do what he did to Mama! I just didn't see what good it was going to do to hate him!"

"Well, maybe if you'd—"

"Ron!" Harry cut in warningly. "You have my full permission to continue hating Voldemort but don't take it out on Persephone. She didn't know."

"Sorry," Ron said stiffly.

"Do you hate him?" asked Persephone.

"I think I'm past hating him now," said Harry. "He's a disease. He has to be cut out so that the rest of us can live. I think I'm starting to understand the prophecy."

"What prophecy?"

Harry looked at his aunt, trying to decide how to best explain. "Hang on a minute." Ron and Hermione pressed themselves against the walls of the staircase as Harry pushed past them to hurry back up to Dumbledore's office. He pounded on the door, and it opened for him.

The wizened old wizard raised his eyebrows. "That was a bit sooner than I expected."

Harry stopped to catch his breath. "Headmaster, could I borrow your Pensieve?"

o

* * *

o

It took a little while to convince Dumbledore to loan him the Pensieve and a little longer to learn how to use it and take is back down to the Room of Requirement. Harry remembered all the basics of the prophecy, but he wanted to hear it again, word for word. He wanted Ron, Hermione, and Persephone to hear it too. He trusted her enough now.

All Harry had of the prophecy was a memory of Dumbledore's memory, but he saw no reason why that would not be enough to share the exact wording with the others.

Once they had settle around the Pensieve in the Room of Requirement, Harry put his wand to his temple. Pulling the memory from his head was a bizarre experience. It was like a string being tugged out of his brain, and his head felt a little lighter once it had detached. He dropped the silvery substance into the Pensieve. Watching Professor Trelawny rise from the contents without the memory in his head was like seeing it for the first time. Harry supposed that was part of the point. He listened with fresh ears as well, but he watched his friends' faces rather than Trelawny's. He knew what she looked like. He wanted to see how they would react.

"_THE ONE WITH THE POWER TO VANQUISH THE DARK LORD APPROACHES...BORN TO THOSE WHO HAVE THRICE DEFIED HIM, BORN AS THE SEVENTH MONTH DIES...AND THE DARK LORD WILL MARK HIM AS HIS EQUAL, BUT HE WILL HAVE POWER THE DARK LORD KNOWS NOT...AND EITHER MUST DIE AT THE HAND OF THE OTHER FOR NEITHER CAN LIVE WHILE THE OTHER SURVIVES...THE ONE WITH THE POWER TO VANQUISH THE DARK LORD WILL BE BORN AS THE SEVENTH MONTH DIES..."_1

They were all listening intently, faces showing only that they were letting the surreal moment settle in their minds. But Harry wanted reactions. "So what do you think?"

"Um…not to get technical, Harry," said Persephone in soft voice. "But what does it mean by neither can live if the other survives. I mean you're both alive now, aren't you?"

"Well, yeah," said Harry. "I think it means…well, Dumbledore said it means one of us will have to kill the other." Ron shifted uncomfortably. Harry felt the muscles in his face twitch. He trusted Dumbledore to know what he was talking about, but the phrasing seemed a bit strange to him as well.

"Maybe something hasn't happened yet," Hermione said. "I mean he sort of made you into the one who could defeat him. Because he passed certain powers to you when he tried to kill you the first time…which didn't work because of your mother's sacrifice. And he couldn't touch you because of love. Which could be the power he knows not, but your mother's sacrifice didn't happen until after the prophecy was given, so it could be that not all of it is in place yet. That something will happen in the future that creates a condition where only one of you can survive."

"How are you supposed to use love to kill him?" asked Persephone.

"For some reason I don't think I'm supposed to hug him to death," said Harry.

"Probably not," agreed Persephone. "But I mean if love is the power he knows not…"

"Maybe it isn't," said Ron. "I mean it could be, but maybe there's something else Harry has that he's not aware of yet. Like with the Parseltongue."

Hermione knitted her brow. "It's possible. Do you think it's safe for me to copy down? So we can refer to it when we don't have the Pensieve."

"As long as you don't spread it around," said Harry. "Not knowing the last of the Prophecy kept Voldemort from trying to kill me last year. I'd rather keep the little advantages we have over him for now."

Hermione nodded somberly. Persephone looked a bit anxious, and Harry put his hand over hers to reassure her. She gave him a small, grateful smile.

o

* * *

o

They called the D.A. back the next evening to finish the story. Ginny even agreed to reschedule Quidditch practice. It was still a little difficult talking about the graveyard. To get through it Harry focused on the sequence of events rather than how he felt about them. "He took a bone from his fathers grave…unknowingly given, the flesh of the servant," said Harry. "That's what he called it anyway. Wormtail, Peter Pettigrew, cut off his own hand to add the cauldron…willing given."

A few cries of disgust issued from Harry's audience. Hannah Abbott looked like she was trying hard not to be sick. Harry expected a similar reaction from Persephone, who had actually known Pettigrew, but it was not disgust lining her features.

"And some of my blood, the blood of the enemy…forcibly taken."

It was not concern or sympathy either. Her brow was knitted with concentration. "Flesh, blood, and bone…That sounds really familiar."

"Familiar?" Ron gaped and eyed Persephone distrustfully. "That Oliver chap's not allowed to send you anymore dark arts books."

"It's not from a dark arts book," Persephone explained. "I think it was the title of a novel. Oh, what was the author's name? He was popular about a hundred years or so ago. He wrote a lot about ancient spells and magical theory."

"I know who you're talking about," Anthony Goldstein spoke up from the other side of the room. "Amplexus Zeno wasn't it?"

"That's it!" Persephone said happily.

Hermione wrinkled her nose. "Didn't he write fiction?"

"The stories were fiction," said Anthony. "But he was theorist first. He's not taken very seriously though. Some of his ideas were pretty extreme. He thought all Muggles were latently magical." Harry had a vision of Aunt Petunia attacking a stubborn kitchen spot with a wand and had to struggle to keep a straight face.

"I read only three of his books, and it was years ago," said Persephone. "But Flesh, Blood, and Bone was one of them. There was a resurrection spell like that. I think it was Egyptian and something…well…I don't quite remember the details. But if it's the same spell, I think you were supposed to die, Harry."

"I'm sure that was the plan," said Harry. "I'm really bad about following directions."

A few people laughed. "No," Persephone yipped. "I mean the death of the enemy was a finishing part of the spell! You lived, you got away, and that means the magic isn't set."

Harry's mind started clicking things into place. "Persephone, can you get a copy of that book?"

"I don't know," said Persephone. "My copy's long gone. Blaise might have one though. He's always reading books like that. I think he's a big fan of Zeno."

Harry remembered what Dumbledore had said about Blaise Zabini being well worth the trouble of getting to know. "Persephone, I want you to go get Blaise. Bring him into the D.A. Maybe Tom Riddle was a fan of Zeno as well." Persephone nodded but did not move. "Now," said Harry.

"Oh!" Persephone yelped and ran out of the room.

Harry continued on with the story for the others. Luna, Ginny, and Neville brought in their own additions to the battle in the Department of Mysteries. Last year's events were still a bit confusing for Harry, but he explained them as best he could. He had finished with the story and was letting the students go, when Persephone returned with a bemused looking Blaise.

"You wanted me for something?" asked the Slytherin boy.

Harry explained again.

"Yeah, I have Zeno's entire collection," Blaise said. "Left a few of them at home, so I may have to send off for them. But I remember the book you're talking about. Is that really how You-Know-Who came back?"

"Voldemort," Harry corrected. "And yes, that's how he came back."

"Well, if it works like it did in the book, you really did screw him up," said Blaise. "The enemy needs to be alive when the blood is added to the potion, but he's supposed to be killed afterwards. What about the servant?"

"He's dead," said Harry. "Killed last year."

Blaise wrinkled his nose. "That's out of sequence too. I'm not sure exactly what it will do to the magic. But without the death of the enemy, the enchantments holding his body together will only last three years. At least that's what I remember from the book. Zeno could have altered it a bit to suit the plot." He gave Harry an apologetic smile.

"Would you be willing to research it?" asked Harry.

"Sure," said Blaise. "Zeno wrote a few theory books as well with bibliographies. Might lead us to the book he got the spell from in the first place."

"I want to help," said Persephone. "I don't mind doing research."

Harry nodded. "No offense, Blaise, but I'd like to put a small team on this. Keep it small though. It's important, but it's also important that Voldemort doesn't get wind of what we know. I want to understand this better than he does."

Blaise showed no sign of offense. He and Persephone attacked their research with a diligence that Harry found a little surprising. There was scarcely an afternoon in the next few weeks that they could not be found in the room of requirement with a couple of Ravenclaws and sometimes Hermione as well.

Persephone's dedication he could ascribe to familial loyalty. Harry was the last relative she had left. Blaise, who Harry had largely ignored through his Hogwarts career, was more of a mystery. At length Harry asked him about it.

"Well, first off," said Blaise. "I find the whole thing extremely intriguing. Not everyday I get to apply my love of literature to defeating the mortal enemy of the wizarding world. Besides, I blame Voldemort for the death of my mother, and my resulting incompetence in communicating with the female gender." Blaise gave Harry a dark smile.

"He killed your mother too," Harry said softly.

Blaise nodded. "It was a long time ago, but the scars never really heal do they?"

"No, I suppose not," said Harry.

o

* * *

o

Harry returned to the Room of Requirement the next day. He had just settled in to ask how the progress was coming, when Hermione set a heavy book down on the table with a satisfied thud. "That looks oddly familiar," said Harry as he glanced at the book.

"It should," said Hermione. "Hogwarts: A History."

"I thought we were boycotting that book," Ron said wryly.

"Well, I think certain omissions are ridiculous," Hermione said grandly. "But I thought it was worth rereading since we might be staging a battle here."

Harry gave her a stern look. "You weren't doing this while you were supposed to be sleeping were you?"

Hermione gave him a slightly annoyed look. "No, I was doing it while I should have been helping Blaise. But someone insisted on limiting the time I'm allowed to spend on important things."

"We all agreed that it's important that you sleep," Ron said helpfully. Blaise gave them all a bemused look.

Hermione's eyes narrowed dangerously, so Harry swiftly turned the conversation back to the book. "What did you find?"

The distraction worked. Hermione's satisfied smile returned. "Just an encouraging little detail. One of the older enchantments in the castle amplifies the power of magical spells cast by those it recognizes as teachers. That's how Snape was able to stop an entire room of spells going off during our second year dueling club with a single Finite Incantatem. I always thought that was an extremely impressive bit of magic. And most of the teachers are very talented witches and wizards to begin with. It's possible that Voldemort's taken that into consideration, but he has been known to miss important details."

Harry smiled. "That is encouraging."

"Speaking of important details," Blaise interrupted. "I think we're now reasonably certain about the effects your surviving may have on the spell."

"Excellent. I'm all ears."

Blaise closed the book he had been looking over. "So, Potter, do you want the good news or the bad news?"

"I love good news," Harry said dryly.

"Good news is that it's possible that if you'll simply keep yourself alive for another month or so, Voldemort's body will begin to break down," Blaise told him.

"Excellent," Harry said. "The bad news?"

"Other than the fact it gives him more incentive to kill you? It's also possible that as his body threatens to break down, the connection of blood that you share may start draining you magically. It could leave you weak, may even kill you with time."

"Swell," Harry said. "Good news, Hermione, you were right."

"That's not funny, Harry." Hermione rubbed her temples.

"So do we just lock Harry up somewhere safe and hope Voldemort kicks it before he does?" asked Ron.

"No," Harry said pointedly. "I have to kill him, remember?"

"Not to deride Gryffindor bravery or anything," said Blaise. "But there might be some merit to Weasley's suggestion."

"I'll take that into consideration," Harry said dully. He saw no way to convince Blaise without revealing the prophecy, and he was not willing to do that yet.

Hermione was still messaging her temples. "I don't think locking Harry up is the answer. Do you think it's worth extra research?"

Blaise's mouth twitched apologetically. "I don't think so. We've pretty much exhausted all the material we have on the subject. I think I need a little time of to attend to…things I've been neglecting."

"Like studying," Hermione suggested. "I don't know how you've been keeping up with classes with all the time you've put in on this."

"Oh, I never study," Blaise said offhandedly.

"Never?" Hermione gawked. "You are planning to study for the N.E.W.T.s, aren't you?"

"I don't think so," said Blaise.

Hermione looked morally offended. "But those tests could determine entire your future!"

Blaise smirked. "Relax, Granger. I didn't study for the O.W.L.s, but I did well enough on those. 'O's and 'E's mostly. The important thing is to understand the principles behind everything. I pay attention in class, and I do all my reading and homework. I cram a bit ten minutes before the test, but I think anything beyond that is a bit superfluous. I figure I either know it or I don't."

"I like that philosophy," Ron said approvingly.

"The sorting hat didn't consider putting you in Ravenclaw," Harry warned him.

"True."

"Bet it considered Granger though," said Blaise, unaware that Harry was talking about him. "It's the big class mystery how you ended up in Gryffindor."

"We needed her," said Harry, and Hermione blushed happily.

o

* * *

o

A few days later, Padma pulled Harry aside. "Harry, I'm sorry. I'm really sorry. I feel like I've tried everything, but I can't find a band for the dance. The Weird Sisters are on an American tour. All the major bands have left the country. The Worm Hearts said they'd fly back in to play, but they wanted a small fortune for it. Far more than we have in our dance budget. I found a small group called the Merrhymths that we could afford, but I had them send me a sample, and they're _awful_, Harry, just awful! I don't know what we're going to do."

"Wul—" Harry stopped, uncertain what to say. He had been counting on Padma to handle this, but it seemed a little unfair as she had been handling everything else. "It's still a month or two off."

Padma grimaced. "We have to find a band really soon, though. After what happened last year, the governors want time to do background checks on any performers coming into Hogwarts."

"I'll see what I can do," said Harry. "Maybe I can ask around next Hogsmeade weekend?"

"Thank you, Harry," Padma said, giving him a quick hug before hurrying off again.

Harry found Ron in the Gryffindor common room and collapsed into the chair next to him. "You don't know anything about finding bands to play at school dances, do you?"

"No," Ron said helpfully.

"I guess worse comes to worse we could just play records," said Harry.

"Yeah, I suppose," said Ron. "Bit tacky though."

Harry shot Ron an exasperated look. He saw Hermione come up and was about to ask her the same question when she demanded that Ron and Harry hand over their S.P.E.W. badges.

"Are you kicking us out?" asked Ron.

"Don't be silly," said Hermione. "I'm renaming the organization."

"About time," said Ron.

It took Harry a little while to find his badge. It had been shoved away in one of the far corners of his trunk. He surrendered it to Hermione and did not think much more about it until Charms on Monday.

Harry had just sat down when Ron grabbed his arm. "Am I hallucinating or is Malfoy wearing a _spew_ badge?"

"He'd never," Harry chuckled before looking up. Malfoy did indeed have a shiny, S.P.E.W. shaped badge affixed right under his prefect badge. "That can't be…" Harry squinted, attempting to read the letters. He was distracted by Malfoy handing Hermione a bucket. Hermione looked as shocked as Harry felt. Malfoy kept his expression casual as though it was the most normal thing in the world for him to be chatting amicably with Hermione Granger in a crowded classroom.

Harry could not hear what they were saying, but Hermione's hand flew over her mouth. She turned away from Malfoy and set the bucket on the table, before she sank into the seat next to Harry. "What's going on?" Harry asked.

Hermione looked at him as though unsure herself. Her hand was still clamped over her mouth as though she was trying not to laugh or be sick. It was hard to tell.

"What's that?" asked Ron, indicating the bucket.

"Um, those are the new badges," said Hermione, taking her hand away from her mouth. She reached into the bucket and laid out a badge for each of them.

The letters were no longer S.P.E.W. "What does S.E.E. stand for?" Harry asked.

"The Society for Elvin Empowerment," Hermione explained, still looking a bit strained.

"Why did Malfoy have them?" Ron asked.

Hermione shrugged helplessly. "He said he'd change them over for me."

"And you let him?" Harry eyed the badge suspiciously.

"I was busy," said Hermione. She reached into the bucket and pulled out a small cloth bag. "Besides he came up with—"

"What's that?" asked Ron. He had not picked up his badge either.

"Sickles, for badges," said Hermione. "He said he sold fifteen." Hermione tipped her chin to indicate the far side of the classroom where Crabbe and Goyle were interrogating a cocky looking Malfoy. "He even got Crabbe and Goyle to wear them."

"Probably paid them," Ron grumbled. "Bet he just stuck thirty sickles in a bag and passed out the badges."

Harry was still confused. "But why would he do that? Hermione?"

Hermione did not answer. She had her lips pressed tight.

"You didn't put the Imperius curse on Malfoy did you?" asked Ron.

"Good morning," Professor Flitwick said brightly. "Today we are going to—" He was interrupted by a loud peel of laughter from Hermione.

"Sorry, Professor," she apologized quickly and turned pink.

"Quite all right, Ms. Granger," Flitwick said amiably. "A little laughter never hurt anyone."

It was hard not to laugh over the course of the next week as it became obvious that Hermione was holding something over Malfoy's head. He was brightly supportive of the house-elf organization to anyone who asked, giving a long rehearsed sales pitch that reminded Harry of those late night infomercial hosts on Muggle television. As the week faded off, so did Draco's brightness. Justin Finch-Fletchley figured out that Draco was obligated to give the full pitch whenever asked, so he made it a point to do so two or three times through out the day. Harry wondered why Ron resisted. Hermione found the whole thing hysterical. She frequently had to turn her face away while Draco spoke because she did not want to be seen as laughing at the S.E.E.

Ron insisted that he and Harry wear their badges so as not to be out done by Malfoy. Malfoy however stopped wearing his badge after a week was up. He looked like he wanted to say something rude when Justin expressed disappointment but restrained himself.

"Come on, Hermione," Ron urged. "Tell us what you had on him."

Hermione insisted she did not have anything on Malfoy, and no amount of niggling could pry a different answer from her. She did admit that she had discussed the subject with him during their tutoring sessions with Persephone.

Ron scowled. "What else did you discuss?"

"Homework?" Hermione said in a that-much-should-be-obvious tone. "Speaking of which, you two should start studying for your N.E.W.T.s. I really want us to use the Easter holidays effectively."

"We're expecting an attack from Voldemort, and you're worried about tests?"

"I don't know about you, Ron, but I was planning to survive," Hermione retorted. "And our N.E.W.T. scores will determine what sort of jobs we're able to get in the future. _Harry_ wants to be an Auror which means he needs an 'E' in every class."

"I'm not going to be an Auror," Ron said grumpily.

"Neither am I, but you still want options, don't you?"

To a large part they submitted to Hermione's study schedules, because Harry did want to be an Auror. More than that, he liked the idea of living past the end of the term. He wished his prophecy had been a bit more optimistic. Maybe _THE ONE WHO WILL CERTAINLY, WITHOUT-A-DOUBT DESTROY THE DARK LORD. _ That sounded better.

The twins sent Ron an owl with another invitation to meet for lunch during the next Hogsmeade weekend.

"I don't know if I'll be able to make it," said Hermione. "I'm supposed to meet someone around that time."

"Who?" Ron asked curiously.

"Malfoy. He said he wanted to buy me a drink."

Harry choked on his toast. "Hermione, what happened to all that healthy paranoia you had last term?"

"He's not going to poison me at the Three Broomsticks, Harry," Hermione said patiently.

"Why does he want to buy _you_ a drink in the first place?" asked Ron.

Hermione shrugged. "I suppose he wants to talk."

"About _what?_"

"He didn't say, but I still think it's an opportunity we can't pass up," said Hermione. "Maybe he's ready to tell us what happened this summer."

"He could tell Harry that," Ron objected. "Why do you have to go off with him?"

"Maybe he feels more comfortable with me."

"But you're Muggle-born."

"So?"

"Well, I don't have a problem with it, but he has issues."

"Ron, he's been a perfect gentleman during our tutoring sessions. Maybe he's starting to grow up a bit."

Harry's toast was not agreeing with his stomach any more than it had his throat. "Um, Hermione, this hurts my head, but what if Malfoy doesn't want to talk. This isn't a date, is it?"

Hermione gave a hollow laugh. "Don't be silly. It's just drinks at the Three Broomsticks. Everyone goes there."

Harry wondered if Hermione had not been over thinking things again and missed the obvious. She was a girl after all and not a bad looking one. Even Malfoy could not have missed that much. Malfoy had certainly been _looking _at her enough to notice. Harry caught him at it in Potions and again in Transfiguration.

He tried not to thinking about it too much and distracted himself with _Life of the Auror_, while Hermione was in Arithmancy. Unfortunately _Chapter Six: Learning Who to Trust_ was not easing his mind. "You don't think Malfoy could actually be interested in Hermione, do you?" Harry asked Ron.

Ron looked up from his Transfiguration text. "No. I know your aunt's all in his camp, Harry, but we both know Malfoy's scum. He hates Muggle-borns. He was practically bred for it."

"You do have to admit he's been a little different this year," said Harry.

Ron sniffed. "You've seen the kind of act he can put on for teachers. No reason he couldn't turn it on Persephone and Hermione if he wanted something from them."

Harry found this oddly comforting and disconcerting all at once. "The question is what does he want?"

"Dunno," said Ron. "But it can't be good." He reached into his bag and pull out a quill and parchment.

"Hermione's smart," Harry said as much to himself as Ron. "She'll see through him."

"She better," said Ron, who began scratching out a letter. "If Malfoy puts a hand on her, I'll kill him."

"What are you writing?" asked Harry.

"Reply to Fred and George. I'm telling them to meet us at the Three Broomsticks. If Hermione's thinks we're going to leave her alone with Malfoy, she's mental."

"Good idea," said Harry.

Hermione thought they were both mental and said as much as they walked to the village that Saturday.

"We're not going to interfere with your date," Harry said, trying to make light of things. "We're just back up in case Malfoy tries something."

Hermione rolled her eyes, but a small smile played on her lips, which made Harry think she was not too angry with them. "One, I can take care of myself. Two, this not a date. And three, Malfoy's not going to try anything somewhere that public."

"Bet he tries to get you to go somewhere else with him," Ron muttered.

"Well, then he'll be disappointed," said Hermione. "Honestly, you two."

Harry stuck his hands in his pockets. "Do you honestly think you can get information out of him?"

Hermione shrugged. "I'm going to try. Why?"

"See if you can find out who and where he rescued Persephone from," said Harry. "I bet you ten to one, he's the one she made her promise to."

"I'll see what I can do," Hermione said soberly.

Malfoy was already waiting in a booth when they entered the Three Broomsticks but so were the twins. Fred and George waved them enthusiastically over to where they were sitting. Ron directed Hermione's attention to them, and the three of them walked to the far side of the room, passing by Malfoy on one side and a table with the other seventh year Slytherins on the other. Harry tried not to glance too long at Blaise and Millicent as he passed. Blaise was crammed in between the blond Slytherin and Indigo Stump whose hair was dark again. Millicent had her large hand laced with Goyle's larger one, and Harry remembered Persephone saying something about them being _the sweetest couple_.

He and Ron took seats across from the twins, while Hermione remained standing at the end of the table. "Lo, Hermione," Fred said. "Would you like to have a seat?"

"No, I can't stay. I'm meeting someone." Hermione smiled. "But I have another minute or two. How's the shop going?"

"Excellent," said Fred. "We're thinking about opening a Hogsmeade branch."

"Brilliant."

"What's Malfoy doing on his lonesome?" asked George. "Other Slytherins kick him out?"

"I think he's waiting for someone," said Hermione. "It was good seeing you two, maybe we can talk more later. Have a good lunch." She waved a quick goodbye and walked over to Malfoy's table.

"Ooohkaay," Fred said slowly.

"I think this demands a further explanation," said George.

"Hermione's trying to convert Malfoy," Ron said gruffly.

The twins wrinkled their noses in disgust.

"It's not a date," Harry said flatly.

"Does he know that?" asked George. "Looks like he put on a nice shirt."

Draco was smiling nervously at Hermione. The sight made Harry queasy. Ron looked like he might be able to drill a hole through Malfoy with his glare. It was hard to see Hermione's face from their angle, but she turned her head and smiled at them.

"Forget lunch," said Fred. "I think I've lost my appetite."

Draco's smile did not last for long though. Whatever he and Hermione were discussing, it was not going well for him.

Rosmerta brought them four butterbeers. They thanked her and watched her place the largest glass Harry had ever seen outside of Hagrid's hut in front of Hermione and a water glass in front of Malfoy. George laughed. "She's making him pay, isn't she? Go, Hermione."

"Don't encourage her," Ron muttered, though it was unlikely that Hermione could hear them anymore than they could hear her and Malfoy.

"So how are things with Angelina?" Harry asked.

"Good," said George, still transfixed on Draco and Hermione as though he had never seen anything more horrible or fascinating. "We set the wedding date for this summer so you lot can come. She's been driving me nuts with preparations."

"Liar," said Fred. "He's driving her nuts with them." George did not argue.

A loud peel of laughter issued from the Slytherin table. Harry took a swig from his butterbeer. He wished he could hear what they were saying. Hermione was hardly touching her drink. Some part of him knew that she was perfectly capable of handling Malfoy on her own. They had classes together that Harry and Ron did not share, and she had managed to survive those. Still it seemed unchivalrous to let the lady face the dragon alone.

Hermione raised her hand to wipe her eye, and Ron twitched. "If he makes her cry…"

As though he had sensed Ron's threat, Malfoy's hand shot out to cover Hermione's. Ron jerked and gripped the table as though he might rise. Harry did the same, not entirely sure if he was going to stop Ron from breaking Draco's legs or help him with it. Malfoy wisely withdrew his hand, so Ron and Harry stayed put. Harry noticed the twins had clenched hands as well and felt a little better about his reaction. Malfoy glanced at them. He must have realized that, if he messed with Hermione, he would have to mess with all of them.

The Slytherins had gone quiet. Harry was sure they did not approve of Malfoy making moves on Hermione anymore than the Gryffindors did. Realizing that he was having the same reaction as the Slytherins made Harry feel a little dirty. Hermione laughed, and Harry decided that he might do well to stop watching other people have conversation.

He tore his eyes off Malfoy and Hermione and looked at the twins. "So you're thinking about opening a shop in Hogsmeade?"

"Yeah," said George, taking the hint and pulling his eyes away as well. "That or negotiate something with Zonko's. We owe them a lot, would hate to put them out of business."

"So how are you lot doing? The N.E.W.T. jitters hit yet?"

"Not as bad as I thought they might," said Harry. He stole another glance and caught Malfoy's eye. Harry narrowed his eyes a bit, wishing Malfoy would cut through the game already. Draco looked away.

"How's the Head Boy thing working out?"

"Not too bad," said Harry. "I still haven't the slightest clue what I'm doing. We've been preparing for the possibility of an attack on the school…just being paranoid. Everyone thinks I'm dating my aunt, and we can't find a band for the Leaving Dance."

"Yeah, Lupin told us about that," said Fred. "Apparently they used to know each other."

George tapped his butterbeer bottle against Harry's. "I may have a solution to one of your problems. Tonks is in a band, and they'll play for next to nothing. Actually considering it's for you, they might play for nothing."

"Tonks has a band?"

"Yeah, it's sort of a weekend thing she does."

"Are they any good?" asked Harry.

"They're not bad," said Fred. "And that way, we can be sure there'll be no Death Eaters trying to pose as entertainment. At least, not without a qualified Auror there to take them on."

Harry considered it. "Thanks, I'll talk it over with Padma and write Tonks tonight."

Ron was still glaring at Malfoy. Fred waved a hand in front of his face. "Cut it out," Ron muttered.

"Ron, why don't you take a break. They're not—"

"Who's that?" Ron asked sharply.

A man had approached Draco and Hermione's table. Harry took an instant dislike to him. The man did not stay long. Draco seemed to have grown a little paler. He said something to Hermione then got up from the table and headed out of the pub.

Hermione paused for a second, then hurried back over to the Gryffindor's table. "Harry, do you have your invisibility cloak?" she asked in a fast whisper. Harry nodded. "Let me borrow it." Harry looked at her curiously. "Hurry," Hermione snapped.

She looked serious, so Harry pulled the folded cloak out of his pocket and handed it to her. "What do you need it for?" asked Ron.

"I think that was a Death Eater," Hermione explained quickly. "He wants Malfoy to meet him in the Shrieking Shack. I'm going to follow him."

"Are you mental?" asked Ron.

"No, I'm going to be invisible," Hermione whispered shortly. "I want you all to follow me just in case. Make sure no one sees you."

Hermione gave them no time to argue so they got up from the table and followed her out the door. The Slytherins stirred curiously as they passed. Hermione walked quickly ahead of them and turned into an alley. They did not see her come out again, but the alley was empty when they passed it.

"What did I say?" Ron muttered as they made their way down the main street.

"Pansy's following us," said Harry. He had looked back and seen her emerge from the Three Broomsticks with Daphne Greengrass and the others.

"This way!" the twins directed. They led Ron and Harry through a twist of side streets and back allies that took them to the Shrieking Shack.

"I think we shook them," said George.

"As if there was a doubt. Do you see Hermione?"

"Don't ask stupid questions."

"Right. Harry, what did you have to give her the cloak for?"

"I-"

"Shh!"

They crept up to the gate that lead to the shack. "You two stay here," Harry told the twins. "Ron and I will try to get closer to the shack." They nodded grimly. "Do you see anyone at the windows?"

"No," Fred said. "Go on. Just be careful."

Harry drew his wand and motioned for Ron to take the right. They walked stealthily up to the shack using scraggly bushes and gnarled trees for cover. There was a loud thud and scraping from inside the shack. Harry and Ron hurried up to the house. Harry stepped up on the rickety porch and peered through a slat in the boarded up window. He could see the supposed Death Eater bent over something, but he heard Malfoy's voice.

"What do you mean when the time comes?" asked Malfoy. "When?"

"When it comes, it will be obvious," the gravelly voice answered. Ron stepped up on the other side of the porch, and it gave a loud creak. The Death Eater looked up, and Harry ducked his head down. "Did you hear that?"

Harry did not wait to hear Draco's answer. He motioned for Ron to get away, jumped off the porch and ran for a clump of bushes. A minute or so later the door to the shack flung open, and the man stalked out in what Harry was sure he thought was a casual walk. Harry watched him walk to the end of the path and Disapparate. Harry spotted Ron as he crept out from behind his own hiding spot.

"_What do we do now?_" Ron mouthed.

Harry wanted to rush into the shack and check on Hermione, but that might be a bad idea if there turned out to be more than one of Death Eater. "_Wait_," he mouthed back.

The wait seemed to last forever. Harry twisted his wand in his palm, anxious to do something besides watch the door. Ron got tired of it and made a quick dash across the path to Harry's side. "What's taking them so long?" he whispered.

"I dunno," Harry breathed. The door to the shack opened and closed again on its own. Harry hoped that meant Hermione was coming out in the invisibility cloak. Ron stayed crouched beside him.

"It's okay," Hermione's voice came from behind him. "You can put your wand away."

"Geez, Hermione." Ron placed a hand over his chest. "Give a guy a heart attack."

"What happened?" asked Harry, while Hermione shrugged off the invisibility cloak.

"The Death Eater gave Malfoy a warning, told him he better stand with them when the time came or he'd die with the rest of us."

"What did Malfoy say?"

"Well, what could he say? Made a bunch of noise about having some grand scheme and promised to kill us all. The important stuff was after the Death Eater left."

"I thought the kill us all bit was important," Ron said flatly.

"Not all of us, just me," Hermione amended. "It was the Death Eater's suggestion. He just…it doesn't matter. Malfoy knew I was in there. If he was going to kill me, he just missed his opportunity."

"Are you following the logic, Harry?"

Harry whacked Ron's shoulder to shut him up. "What did Malfoy say afterwards?"

"Everything," said Hermione. "I think this made him realize he couldn't stay neutral anymore. You were right, Harry. The Death Eaters were under Malfoy Manor. They killed that librarian who went missing last summer. Draco saw it."

"What about Persephone?" asked Harry. "Did he tell you who was holding her in that painting?" Hermione nodded. "Well?"

She made an apologetic face. "I promised not to tell." Harry stared at Hermione incredulously. "It has nothing to do with the war," Hermione continued. "What could you really do with the information anyway?"

"See that the person who did it was brought to justice." Harry thought that much was obvious.

"They'll get what's coming to them," Hermione said grimly. "Please, Harry, just trust me on this one. I'd tell you if it was really something you needed to know. Malfoy's ready to help, but he's afraid to join the D.A. until he figures out who's spying on him."

"Here he comes," Ron shushed them.

Harry watched Malfoy leave the shack and walk down the path. Draco was watching the ground as though his head was too heavy to hold up. Harry was disgusted by Malfoy's lack of professionalism. You were just asking to be attacked if you did not keep your head up and look about you. Lucky for Malfoy, no one was planning to attack him today. Ron raised his wand as though tempted but decided it was too easy.

"Where do you think you're going?" Fred asked, when Malfoy reached the gate, making the Slytherin jump.

Hermione hurried forward to rescue him from the twins. "I think we should head on back to the school." Fred gave Harry a questioning look, and Harry nodded. For what little he had done, he was feeling very drained.

"We're your escorts," the twins said and cracked their knuckles just to make Draco twitch. Ron smiled.

"Come on," said Hermione, grabbing Malfoy's sleeve and dragging him the first few steps towards the school. Fred and George glanced at Ron and Harry and wrinkled their noses again. "I was worried there for a minute. I thought he had heard me. I slipped in through the door right after Malfoy."

"Draco," Malfoy corrected her. His color was starting to come back, but he still looked paler than usual.

"As you like," Hermione laughed as though it hardly mattered. "Anyway, what's his name here held the door open long enough for me to slip inside. The Death Eater threw him around a bit." ("Sorry I missed it," muttered Ron.) "I was worried I was going to have to break cover, but I didn't want to interfere because he might say something important."

"Did he?" asked Fred.

"Well, sort of," Hermione hesitated. "He said something big was going to happen. Or something obvious at least. Said Draco was going to have to choose sides."

"Oh, and did you, Draco?" George asked with false cheeriness.

"Um, yeah," Draco said, still eyeing the twins nervously.

"Draco's on our side," Hermione said firmly.

Draco nodded and gave Harry a hopeful look. Harry could not bring himself to nod back just yet.

Hermione continued on somewhat giddy from her adventure. "His _breath! _I didn't even get that close to him. Ugh. How did you stand it?"

Draco gave a breathy laugh. "I don't think I breathed the whole time I was in there."

Hermione treated them to every detail from the Shrieking Shack, while Malfoy nodded at the appropriate places. "I don't think Draco should officially join the D.A. yet," said Hermione. "Least not until we figure out who this spy is. But Persephone can get any important information to him. What do you think, Harry?"

"That's fine," Harry said dully.

"I had a few ideas about the emergency plans," said Malfoy. "If you want to hear."

"Oh, definitely," the twins said.

The irritating thing about the ideas was that they were perfectly good and detailed. All focused around the Slytherin dungeon naturally, but that would be Malfoy's area of expertise. Harry knew it would be a good thing to bring Malfoy in if his intentions were genuine. Malfoy knew the Death Eaters as well or better than any student, and the number of Slytherins that Persephone had brought in was still slim compared to the other houses. From the sheer politics of it, Malfoy would be a great asset…if they could trust him.

The trouble was that Harry had the feeling they could trust him. Ron could say what he liked about Malfoy's acting ability, but Harry had always been able to tell when Draco was putting on a show for the teachers. If this was a show, Malfoy had improved his acting to a frightening level.

It was clear from his body language that he was more comfortable talking to Hermione, but then again, she was the one most willing to listen to him. Harry was simply glad there had not been anything flirty about Hermione's body language. Still, it was strange watching her get along with Malfoy. The twins were watching with equal bemusement.

They changed subjects to less secretive topics as they approached the school gates and the other students. Harry watched Malfoy put on his act as suddenly as someone flipping a light switch. He became cheerful. His nervous smile turned cocky. This was the Draco Harry was used to seeing from years past. Only this was how Malfoy had acted with the other Slytherins, not him, not Hermione, certainly not the Weasleys. Maybe Malfoy had always been acting.

They reached the gates, and the twins hung back with Harry and Ron, while Draco and Hermione submitted to searches by Filch and Madam Hooch.

"Okay, so clearly some one has polyjuiced themselves to take Malfoy's place," said George. "The question is why."

"I think it's more likely Hermione put the Imperius Curse on him," said Fred.

"Hey, that one was mine!" Ron protested, smiling a bit.

"You guys aren't helping."

"Sorry, Harry. What do you want us to tell the Order?"

"Tell them everything," said Harry. "In particular, give them a description of that guy from the shack. If you find a name, send it to me. I'm making a list."

"Better check it twice," said George. The twins ruffled Ron's hair and bid them farewell before Apparating away.

Ron and Harry submitted to searches, while Draco and Hermione waited on them. Draco was trying very hard to make Hermione laugh, but she just gave him a patient smile. The four of them walked up to the castle together.

Persephone came running up to them when they entered the castle. "Hello, Persephone," Harry called out. He wanted to grab her attention before Malfoy did.

Persephone stopped short, wringing her hands and looking otherwise very anxious. "Oh, hi, Harry. I need to talk to Hermione."

"What's wrong?" asked Hermione.

"It turned blue," Persephone said in small, distressed voice.

"Oh no," Hermione groaned. "All our hard work. It's wasted."

Persephone wrung her hands a bit tighter. "Um…not exactly."

Malfoy gave her a stern look. "Persephone, what did you do?"

"I panicked," Persephone whimpered. "Oh, you better come see."

Draco and Hermione exchanged worried glances and started to follow Persephone towards the dungeons. Harry and Ron started to follow too, but Hermione motioned for them to stay put. "I'll see you two later," she said pointedly and practically ran down the stairs.

"What just happened?" asked Harry.

"I think we lost her," said Ron.

o

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**1.** "Order of the Phoenix" Ch. 37


	18. The Choice

**Disclaimer:** This story is based on the Harry Potter novels written by J.K. Rowling. All characters created by J.K. Rowling are owned by J.K. Rowling. The few characters created by me (i.e. Persephone, Hotchet, Kagome…) belong to me, but are available for use in other fics as long as I get credited as their creator. None of us are making any money off this and no infringement is intended.

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o

**Level 2.11: The Choice**

The panic was back. Draco clutched the Death Eater's summons. Hermione's dark eyes were wide, watching him expectantly, full of concern. Draco's mind raced. He could try to ignore this, slip back into the castle, and wait for term to end. It was one thing to act suspiciously, quite another to blatantly disregard a direct summons. "Does Potter have his invisibility cloak with him?" Draco asked Hermione in an undertone.

"I don't know," Hermione breathed.

Draco swallowed. "Borrow it if you can and follow me." He took a last gulp of his water and dropped some money on the table to pay for the drinks. He stood and gave Hermione a pleading look. She reached for the parchment he had left on the table. He gave her just long enough to get a glimpse at the short message, before snatching it up. There was someone watching after all.

"Gotta go," he said in a normal voice. He walked out of the Three Broomstick, vaguely aware of the curious murmurs from the Slytherins and that Hermione had headed for Potter's table.

There was no sign of the Death Eater on the street. The man had probably Apparated to the shack so it would not be obvious that Draco was following him. Draco schooled his features, trying hard not to betray his nervousness or make eye contact with anyone. On the way through the village he spotted at least one man he was sure was an Auror, and two more he suspected might be. _Please follow me._ _Please follow me._ _Please follow me._

This internal chant was directed at Hermione. He was not sure why he trusted her more than the Aurors, but he did. Probably all those stories about Aurors abusing their wartime powers his father had told him.

The Shrieking Shack looked thoroughly uninviting even in the springtime. He stopped near the gate and looked around. He saw no one, but that might not mean anything. Draco took a deep breath and walked deliberately up to the shack. Normally the building was sealed. He, Crabbe, and Goyle had tried to break inside a few years ago without much luck. The handle turned at his touch however, and Draco pulled the door open. He stepped inside cautiously. His hand found the end of his wand and wrapped around it.

"Close the door," the hard voice ordered. Draco did so, but at a slow deliberate pace. The sound it made when it clicked into place was not loud in reality, but to Draco it seemed as though the whole village should have heard it.

"Leave your wand in your pocket, or you may not live to regret it," the voice growled again. Draco weighed his options. Draco was a fair duelist, but since he had no way of knowing how skilled his opponent might be, he decided it was best to do as told. He held his hands out where they could be seen and looked for the source of the voice. The light outside was bright, but the boarded windows only allowed slits into the shack. The wizard from the Three Broomsticks moved fluidly for a man of his size. He poured out from the shadows and grabbed Draco roughly by the collar, pushing him into the dusty remains of a sitting room.

"The Dark Lord has little patience for cowards." He jerked Draco's collar again before releasing him. "And none for traitors."

"I'm not a traitor!" Draco snapped. He was trembling a bit, but his voice sounded strong, perhaps a little petulant.

The Death Eater, for Draco had no doubts that was what he was dealing with, twitched his wand lazily in the air like a coiled snake. He seemed to be pondering what type of vermin to best turn him into. "That's what your parents say. They assured the Dark Lord that you would never turn from the old ways. Wonder what they'd say if they saw the company you keep now," the man sneered.

"I'm only doing what he asked me too!" Draco's voice carried traces of fear and desperation. He was not entirely sure where the words came from, but he sensed they were right. The Death Eater's face twisted with uncertainty, and Draco hurried on. "He told me not to get expelled. Same reason he didn't give me the Dark Mark. Only I realized it wasn't enough not to have the mark, I had to get them to trust me, or I'd never be able to get close enough. I had an opportunity, and I took it."

"You claiming this was all part of some plan?" the Death Eater growled.

"Course it was!" Draco spat, anger pouring out now. "Been working all year on it. It was finally starting to go well before you stuck your ugly face in."

The Death Eater snarled and twitched his wand. Draco found himself flung back on the dusty couch, hard enough to knock the wind out of him. He gasped for breath and then coughed at the dust cloud that had stirred up. The Death Eater was over him before he had a chance to recover. Draco had curled with the coughing, the man shoved him back so that Draco would look up at him and pressed the tips of his wand into Draco's sternum. "You know what I think," he said in a voice that was low and menacing and all Draco could hear. "I think you're a weaselly little coward who turned tail at the sight of blood. If it were up to me, I'd simplify things and put an end to you right now, but I'm old enough to understand that I'm simply a hand of my master. You're just lucky your _plans _haven't interfered with ours. The Dark Lord is merciful enough to give you another chance. Carry on however you like for now, get close to the filth and the Mudbloods, but when the time comes you best stand with us or you'll die like the rest of them. Your mummy and daddy can't talk you out of this one."

"What do you mean when the time comes?" Draco asked. "When? What's going to happen?"

The Death Eater gave him a nasty smile. "When it comes, it will be obvious." He paused as though sniffing the air and twisted his head sharply. "Did you hear that?"

Draco shook his head, looking for any sign of movement. The rickety old house gave another loud creak. The Death Eater looked back in Draco's direction, and Draco gave him a wry smile. "It is the most haunted house in Britain."

"Puss," the Death Eater muttered disdainfully, but Draco thought he looked a bit nervous all the same. "Get up."

Draco stood and tried to knock the dust off his clothes.

The Death Eater looked at him contemptuously. "You're being watched. If I were you, I'd kill the Mudblood girl. You're going to have to do something impressive to make up for the stunt you pulled this summer."

"That was the plan," Draco said with an equal amount of contempt.

The Death Eater pointed his wand at Draco warningly. "Mind you don't plan yourself into an early grave. You wait here a while. I don't want to be seen leaving with you." He eyed the cracks in the door suspiciously before flinging it open and walking out into the sunlight.

Draco waited for the door to shut behind him before muttering, "Feeling's mutual." He watched the Death Eater walked down the path through the crack in the door until the man Disapparated. "He's gone."

A creak in the floorboards directed Draco's attention to under the staircase. Hermione's head appeared, her hair in disarray, her eyes wide. She was breathing heavily in a way that made Draco think she had been holding her breath, mainly because he was doing the same. "Are you okay?" he asked.

Hermione nodded. "You?" Draco nodded. "That was mildly terrifying."

"Mildly?" Draco asked.

"I've been through worse," Hermione said. She swallowed and knocked a few strands of hair away from her face. "Besides I wasn't the one getting knocked around. I don't think they're going to let you stay neutral." She was still hugging the invisibility cloak around her shoulders.

Draco leaned back heavily against the doorframe to support himself. He was starting to come to the same conclusion. "You heard what he said? About me being watched?"

Hermione nodded. "I heard what you said too."

_Oh hell._ "I was acting," he said giving Hermione a pleading look.

"I thought you were going to stop acting."

Draco felt the muscles in his neck tighten. "He would have killed me if I…" Hermione knew that though.

Hermione gave Draco a sad look. "How is anyone ever going to trust you if all you care about is saving your own neck?"

"That's not all I care about," Draco protested. "But I don't want to casually throw my life away either."

"Shut up, Malfoy, I'm thinking," Hermione snapped, her brow knitted. "I suppose that's a fair point. If you were really planning to kill me, you're certainly taking your time about it."

"I'm not!" "Shh!"

Draco hugged his arms across his chest and stood uncomfortably in the dark, dusty shack, waiting for Hermione to think and trying to do a bit of that himself.

"And it would be rather stupid of you to invite me to overhear like that."

"And we both agree I'm not stupid?" Draco prompted.

"Well, you're not _that_ stupid. Unless this is a far more elaborate plot than I'd give you credit for."

Draco stared gape-eyed at Hermione. "Has anyone ever told you you're paranoid?"

Hermoine met his eyes with her own hard stare. "Give me a reason not to be."

Draco sensed that she was inclined to believe him, but she was goading him for information. His first instinct was continue insisting he could not say anything, but she was right. More gratingly Persephone was right. He was going to have to choose, better now than in the middle of an attack. "It won't make any difference."

"Tell me about the blood," Hermione said. "What blood was he talking about?"

Draco stared hard at the floor. He wanted to stop existing so he would not have to answer. "Hermione, I can't-"

"Draco!" she said in a last chance tone.

He felt ill. "Tomes, Evra Tomes, the missing librarian. I saw them kill her." He stopped, waiting for her rebuke about simple shielding charms.

"Is that why you left?" Hermione asked. Draco nodded. "You ran from home. They're at the Malfoy Manor?"

"Under it," Draco said. "But I don't think you can get in without the Dark Mark."

"Snape could," Hermione murmured.

"I forgot about him," Draco admitted. "But I think they're onto Snape now, and that was nine months ago. They could be anywhere."

"One of the Death Eaters had Persephone, didn't they?"

Draco shook his head. "I can't, not that."

"Draco."

"It has nothing to do with the war, I swear."

"Then why is it so important to hide?"

"Persephone's willing to let it go, why is it so important that you know?"

"Because, I don't think Persephone is keeping that secret because she wants to." Hermione looked at him steadily. "Tell me. Draco, tell me so that I can trust you. It may be more important than you think. Who put Persephone in that painting?"

Draco bit his lip to keep from crying with frustration. "Can you promise me you won't tell if it's not important to the war?"

Hermione bit her own lip. "I promise," she said after a long pause.

Draco continued to avoid her gaze. He felt like a traitor, but he needed Hermione to trust him. "My mother. She was jealous because she thought Persephone was interested in my father...I know it was wrong. I know she was wrong, but she's been hiding it from everyone. If my father found out, he'd be angry...if Voldemort found out she'd been hiding a Potter, he might...she's in enough trouble already. I can't be the reason that she...Hermione, please don't tell anyone. It's bad enough knowing my parents may turn on me. I don't want them to turn on each other."

Hermione sighed. "I won't. I promised. As long as it's not important to the war."

"What are you going to tell Potter?" Draco asked. Some of his nervousness was leaking away, but it was a slow leak.

"I'll tell him that you're on our side," Hermione said, tucking her hair back in place. Draco felt like an enormous weight had dropped from his shoulders.

He gave her a sheepish smile. "So, um-uh, was that your idea of things going well?"

Hermione looked at him and laughed. "Fine, provided you behave yourself and understand that it's _completely platonic_, I'll go to the stupid dance with you."

"Yes, ma'am," Draco said. "Completely platonic."

Hermione rolled her eyes and pulled the invisibility cloak over her head. "I think I better go out first. You can follow a few minutes later."

The door opened and closed again. Draco closed his eyes and tried to get control of his nerves. He had a hundred new things to worry about now. He waited a few minutes and then left the shack at a measured pace.

"Where do you think you're going?" a voice asked when he had reached the gate. Draco started, but it was just the Weasley twins. This discovery did not help his nerves.

"I think we should head on back to the school," Hermione said, walking up with Ron and Harry in tow.

"We're your escorts," one of the twins said and both of them cracked their knuckles in mock-threatening way.

"Come on," Hermione said. She grabbed Draco's sleeve to urge him forward. Draco let himself be lead. Apparently being attacked by a Death Eater _was_ Hermione's idea of a good time. She talked in an endless stream about what had just happened and what their next steps should be. Draco had to admit, now that he had come through the experience alive, it was a bit of a rush.

They decided it was still best for Draco not to acknowledge any awareness of the D.A. at least not until they could determine who the spy was. Hermione thought it would still be easy to get any important information to and from him through Persephone. Now that Draco was committed to going through with them, he had a few ideas about the emergency plans. When they got close to the school, they forced their conversation on to topics that they were less concerned about others overhearing. Draco liked this better, because it gave him more opportunities to say things that were amusing. Hermione still resisted laughing, but she smiled. And that was nice.

o

* * *

o

The Weasley twins left them at the castle gates. Potter and Ron had not said much, but then they had not had much opportunity.

Persephone came running up to them when they entered the castle. "Hello, Persephone," Harry called out in greeting.

She stopped short in front of them, wringing her hands and looking otherwise very anxious. "Oh, hi, Harry. I need to talk to Hermione."

"What's wrong?" Hermione asked.

"It turned blue," Persephone said in small, distressed voice.

"Oh no," Hermione groaned. "All our hard work. It's wasted."

Persephone wrung her hands a bit tighter. "Um…not exactly."

A feeling of dread began building inside Draco. "Persephone, what did you do?"

"I panicked," Persephone whimpered. "Oh, you better come see."

Draco exchanged looks with Hermione. Hermione paused long enough to tell her friends that she would catch up with them later, and the two of them jogged after Persephone down the stairs to the dungeons and Snape's office.

Persephone pressed her back towards the door and checked the hallway for anyone else. She flashed Draco and Hermione an apologetic look before opening it and slipping inside. They followed her, turning sideways so they could slip through the door at the same time. Draco pulled it closed behind them.

"Professor Snape?"

There was the dark shape of a man bent over the desk. His hair and clothes were still those like Professor Snape, but the face that looked up at them was that of a much younger man. Thin and pale, Draco had seen him before in his mother's photo album.

"Who are they?" the young Snape asked.

As Draco and Hermione were both temporarily incapable of speech, Persephone stepped up to make the introductions. "Severus, this is Hermione Granger."

"Hello," Hermione squeaked.

"And this is Draco. He's Lucius's son. They're prefects."

"His _son_?" Snape repeated looking incredulous. His voice was younger, lighter than the Potions Master's had been. Draco nodded.

"Persephone, what have you done?" Hermione hissed.

"He took it out of my hand," Persephone whined. "I couldn't stop him." The young Snape gave Persephone a curious look. He had the air of someone who thought he might be dreaming.

"You must've brought it down here in the first place though," Draco pointed out.

"I told you. I panicked." Persephone wrung her hands again. "What are we going to do?"

"We should take him to Professor Dumbledore," Hermione said firmly.

Draco gave her a startled look. "Dumbledore?"

"We're not going to be able to hide this," Hermione pointed out. "Everyone will notice that Professor Snape isn't quite right."

"Is it true then?" Snape asked. "I'm really a Professor?"

"Well, you were-are," staggered Hermione. "I don't know if you will be anymore. I don't know what we're going to do about our review for the N.E.W.T.s."

"We'll never get him through the halls without drawing a crowd," Draco said. "Should we bring the Headmaster down here?"

"Here," Hermione said, digging in her bag. "Put this over him." She pulled out the invisibility cloak and looked at Snape awkwardly. "I mean, if you're ready."

"Yes," Snape said, walking around the desk to take the cloak. "I want to see the Headmaster." The boy's movements were uncertain. They lacked the dark flair that Draco remembered from his Potions Master. Draco felt an uncomfortable twisting in his stomach. Professor Snape was gone, really gone.

"That looks like James' cloak," Persephone interjected.

"It is," Hermione told her. "He left it to Harry."

The teenage Snape's black eyes went wide, then narrowed. "James has an invisibility cloak?" This younger version had the same eyes, but he seemed deflated to Draco, like the rest of him had not yet grown into that hooknose.

"Had," Persephone amended softly. "He's dead."

"Dead?" Snape repeated. Even his clothes looked a little too big for him. Persephone had said something about him getting taller. "How? Did he die in the war?" He was smoother, gentler looking than the man Draco had come to know. Not nearly as impressive, but not as careworn either.

"We'll give you the history lesson later," Draco said to move things along. "Let's go see Dumbledore now."

"Am I in trouble?" Snape asked, the invisibility cloak half over his head, as he took note of their grave faces.

"No, I don't think so," Persephone assured him. "But I might be."

"Why?"

Draco pulled the cloak over him the rest of the way like a curtain, and took Snape's invisible arm to guide him to the door. "Keep quiet and keep up," he hissed before opening the door. He let go of Snape's arm, but Persephone rested her hand on the other one.

Draco and Hermione did their best to lead them through less crowded corridors. A few people looked surprised to see the two of them walking side by side, but their faces were grim enough most of them assumed they were doing some prefect duty.

"Acid pops," Hermione said when they reached the stone gargoyle that guard Dumbledore's office. It admitted them. Draco checked the hall, and finding it empty, whipped the cloak off Snape. Persephone reached up to fuss over some of Snape's hair that had fallen out of place in the process. They ascended the stairs, and Hermione knocked on the Headmaster's door.

"Come in."

Hermione took a deep breath and pushed the door open.

"What is it, Ms. Granger?" Dumbledore asked. His bushy white eyebrows raised slightly when he spotted Draco with her.

"It's um-it's Professor Snape, sir." Hermione stepped into the office and motioned for Snape and Persephone to come in. If Dumbledore had been surprised to see Draco, it was nothing next to his shock at seeing Snape.

"Severus!" Dumbledore said striding forward. He stopped and looked Snape over as though examining him for injuries. "What happened?"

"I don't know, Headmaster," the young Snape said promptly. "One minute I was in the common room and next thing I know I'm in an office and…" He trailed off, looking nervous. "Persephone told me twenty years had passed."

Dumbledore turned his wizened eyes on Persephone. She met his gaze, but she did it with the air of one awaiting her punishment. "Can you tell me what happened?" he asked her gravely.

"I-I made a Younging Potion," Persephone stuttered. "It wasn't supposed to mature until after term. I was going to talk to Severus about it and give him time to think it over. But it changed color early, and I panicked. I didn't mean for it. I was just going to talk to him about it, but he took it out of my hand and wouldn't give it back."

"And he took this potion with full knowledge of what he was doing?" Dumbledore asked in a voice that was a bit too calm.

"He would have had to, sir," Hermione interjected. "The potion requires the drinker to focus on a particular point in time."

"Ms. Granger, this is a very serious matter," Dumbledore said. "Were you in anyway involved in the brewing of this potion?" He flicked his penetrating eyes to Draco.

_Occulumency_, Draco thought and threw up his mental walls.

"No, sir," Persephone said firmly. "It was just me."

"Are you sure about that, Ms. Potter?" Dumbledore said, eyeing Draco more intently. "A Younging Potion is an extremely complicated bit of brewing if my memory serves."

"It is," Snape piped up as though taking an academic interest in the matter. "Takes three months simply to brew it. But the three month wait for maturity is maximum, Persephone, not a fixed time period."

Dumbledore's lips twitched, and he gave the teenage Snape a sad smile. "Read Most Potente Potions cover to cover, I see."

"Yes, sir," Snape said with a nervous flash of a smile.

"I remember," Dumbledore said. "I've learned to keep my eye on that particular book." Draco felt an icy chill spreading over his chest. "Mr. Malfoy, I found it particularly curious when you checked it out with permission from our Astronomy Mistress back in January. I had words with her about it, I assure you. However as you had started keeping counsel with Ms. Granger, I thought it best to leave you to her better influences, perhaps that was unwise."

"I ask Draco and Hermione to help me, Headmaster!" Persephone interrupted. "He got the book for me, but when he saw the full affects of the Potion, he advised me against it."

"That's true, Headmaster," Hermione murmured, looking at the floor.

_Good girl, don't make eye contact._

"Is it true, Mr. Malfoy?" Dumbledore asked.

Draco however looked Dumbledore square in the eye. "It's true, sir. I told her it was a bad idea. That it would be like killing him."

"I'm not dead," Snape interrupted. "I feel fine. Just a little...out of place."

"Quiet, Severus," Dumbledore said sharply. "You have an extremely good memory, Ms. Potter, to have only seen the book once and remember all the steps for that Potion correctly."

"I borrowed the book from Draco's bag and copied everything down before he turned it back in," Persephone said quickly.

"Maybe I helped her, Headmaster," Snape added. "If I'm the Potions master, I'd have access to all the ingredients. I mean I wouldn't remember."

"No," Persephone said gently, her eyes shining as she looked at the teenage Snape. She touched his shoulder gently. "You didn't do anything except drink it. I take all the blame, Headmaster."

"Yes, I'm afraid you will," Dumbledore said heavily. "Persephone, I have every sympathy for what you have been through, but when I allowed you back into Hogwarts, it was with the understanding that you follow the rules like any other student. You may not have killed anyone, but I can not ignore the severity of what you have done. You have contributed to the loss of twenty years of a man's life and robbed Hogwarts of its Potions Master." Dumbledore pressed his lips together. Draco's dread had not abated, but he worried for Persephone rather than himself now. "Considering the circumstances, I will allow you to remain at Hogwarts until the end of term, but you are not invited to return to school next year. Is that clear?"

"Yes, Headmaster," Persephone said in a small voice, but Draco caught something in her eyes. He did not think she was sorry about it. Not about Snape or her expulsion, not one bit.

Hermione however was clutching her stomach as though the thought of expulsion made her physically ill. Draco cleared his throat so that Dumbledore would look at him rather than her.

"Do you have something to add, Mr. Malfoy? I'm not entirely satisfied that-"

"Draco, tell him about the Death Eater," Hermione ordered.

The distraction was most effective. "What Death Eater?"

In some ways it was harder to tell Dumbledore about things than it was to tell Hermione, but he had a little practice now. Persephone listened to the story opened mouthed. Draco was a little glad she was there, so he would be saved from relating it to her later. She managed to keep her silence with the Headmaster present. Snape clearly had a lot of questions, but he also had the presence of mind to wait his turn.

He told Dumbledore about Evra Tomes and where the Death Eaters were hiding, even how his father had gotten into the underground chamber. "We thought that maybe Snape…"

"I do believe Severus Snape no longer bears the Dark Mark," Dumbledore said. Snape's sleeve was rolled up to check and found white and unmarked. To Dumbledore's credit, he did not seem too disappointed by this. "It might have been convenient to have ready access to the Death Eater's lair, but walking into the vipers' pit is often not the wisest move."

"It's my home," Draco said weakly.

Dumbledore put a hand on his shoulder. "Home is where you are loved, Mr. Malfoy," he said gently. "But the places where we have been loved take on special meaning to us. I will do what I can, but I wonder if you have decided what you will do."

Draco glanced at Hermione. "I'm still thinking," he said.

Dumbledore gave Draco's shoulder one last pat before dropping his hand. "That's enough for now, but I'll remind you that time grows short." He made a tired gesture of dismissal. "As such, I think it's best you three go, so I can decide what to do about young Severus."

Persephone did not look happy at the prospect of leaving Snape's side, but Draco guided her towards the door. "Professor Dumbledore." Persephone stopped at the door and looked back at the Headmaster. "Take care, sir. You need to get some rest, or you'll be too tired when the time comes."

Dumbledore narrowed his eyes. Draco gripped Persephone's arm tightly and all but shoved her out the door. He had seen Dumbledore truly angry once before and was not keen to repeated the experience. Hermione followed them out quickly and shut the door.

"Are you nuts?" Draco hissed at Persephone.

"Doesn't he look tired to you?" Persephone asked, looking to Hermione for support.

"Well, he's getting on," Hermione said tersely. "But I don't think that was the right time to say something about it."

Draco cringed. "Are you trying to get kicked out now rather than the end of term? He's already livid about Snape."

"I'd forgotten how beautiful he was," Persephone said, stealing a glance back at the office door. Draco and Hermione were not sure whether to be exasperated with her or grateful she had taken all the blame on herself.

"I can't say you don't deserve it," Hermione said, still clutching her stomach. "But it's terrible that you're being expelled."

"It's not that bad," Persephone said, confirming Draco's earlier suspicions. "I was already thinking I might not come back. I'm not really keeping up very well in classes. And I want to help Harry. That's more important now. Mes amis me manque.1 I'm just scared for Severus. I didn't know he'd go back that far."

Draco tried scolding her, but it did little good. She was in love and as unreasonable as any teenage girl in that situation, possibly more so. Besides what was done could not be undone. Hermione seemed to be taking on enough guilt for the three of them combined. Draco wanted to reassure her, but she remained scarce. He only saw her at meals.

He took to eating with the Dey children and Charles Bulstrode to avoid his friends. The rumors were flying just as Hermione had predicted. None of them remotely accurate. There were rumors about Snape too, though they were not nearly as strange as the truth. Most of them placed him in the hospital wing. A few got as far as saying there had been some sort of accident involving a potion, but no one seemed to know the full story yet.

Draco saw Persephone even less than Hermione. He stopped her long enough on Tuesday to learn that Snape had spent a little time in the hospital wing but was out now and staying in his quarters. On Wednesday Draco heard murmurs that Snape was returning to class. All the students had settled into the Potions lab before the door flung open and Snape entered.

Draco watched as transfixed as every other student while Snape gave a creative explanation of what had happened to him. Unlike the other students, he was not surprised that Snape had lost twenty years, but to Draco it was as though Snape had transformed once again. The lank black hair was freshly washed and cut to create bangs, which fell coyly over his eyes when he tilted his head. His robes were ones Draco remembered belonging to Professor Snape, but they had been fitted to him so they no longer hung loose on his form. He had added a white collar and cuffs to the black outfit, which Draco thought was a nice touch.

More than that though, his attitude had changed. The teenage Snape seemed to have taken well to the idea of being a Professor. He announced that Dumbledore had decided to let him finish out the year since all that was left was review and qualified Potions Masters were not easy to come by. Persephone's name had been left out of the official story. Draco suspected that Dumbledore wanted to hush up the possibility of a student/teacher romance. Snape blamed the transformation on a potions accident. Draco and Hermione, as the closest things to experts, assured the skeptical class that this story was entirely plausible.

Draco found the teenage Snape nearly as unreadable as the adult. He was sure Snape suspected Draco and Hermione's involvement, but he could not determine how Snape felt about that. He did not betray any emotion when he met Draco's eye. Then again, neither did he or Hermione when they exchanged looks a few minutes later. Draco thought it was a little frightening how easily he could school his features when he was not thinking about it. Little wonder Hermione had trouble trusting him. Draco wanted to talk to Snape after class, but there was a long line of students waiting to do the same thing. Later, he thought it might be wise to keep a little distance from Snape for a while to avert suspicion.

o

* * *

o

The identity of the spy was beginning to irk Draco. Before, he had taken the fact he was being watched as part of the natural order of things, unpleasant but unavoidable. Now the spy was becoming an obstacle. Draco was tired of sitting on the sidelines, particularly now that the sidelines were not looking any safer than the playing field. He wondered what other things Persephone had been not telling him from the D.A. meetings. More than anything it was grating on him that he did want Potter to respect him. He wanted to be something worthy of respect at any rate. As Hermione had said, he doubted that Potter would ever verbally admit it, but Draco thought he would be able to read it in his eyes. Anything would be better than the way Potter looked at him now, as though he did not quite trust Draco but no longer found him a reason for worry either.

Draco managed to run into Hermione at the foot of the steps on the way to Astronomy that evening. "Could I have a word with you?" He tipped his head to indicate the alcove area created by the circular stairs.

Hermione did not look enthusiastic but joined him. "Are you sure you want to be seen talking to me?" she asked.

"I don't think it matters at this point," Draco said. "After what happen in the shack."

"I wasn't talking about that," Hermione muttered.

Indigo, Blaise, and Alice and her Ravenclaw friends had started their ascent. Draco might not have taken note of them, except that they took notice of him and Hermione standing close together. The girls pointed and giggled. Blaise was more reserved and simply wore a smug sort of smirk. Draco was tempted to kiss Hermione and really give them a show, but he was pretty certain that would get him slapped if not hexed. And he did care more about Hermione's feelings than thumbing his nose at the other Slytherins.

Speaking of… "How are you holding up?" he asked. "It's been a rather…eventful week."

Hermione glanced up at the Slytherins and Ravenclaws to make sure they were out of earshot. "I feel like we killed Professor Snape."

"He's not dead."

"He might as well be," Hermione retorted in a hot whisper. "We never should have helped her make that potion. Dumbledore told us she was unpredictable. I don't really blame her after what she went through, but we should have been more rational. We're prefects. We're supposed to be responsible, and we let Persephone take all the blame. I hate the fact that I lied to the Headmaster."

"And what good would it have done to get all three of us expelled?" Draco asked in his own whisper. "You can't fix the past, Hermione," Draco said calmly and gave her an encouraging smile. "Someone really wise told me that."

Hermione's lip twitched. She gave him a piteous look as though uncertain whether or not to let him comfort her.

"I don't claim to be an _expert_ on ethics," Draco continued in a low tone. "But Snape was unhappy enough to drink twenty years of his life away. He loves her. She loves him. And I know we haven't had that much time to get to know this younger version, but he looked happy today. I think he was really enjoying teaching the class."

"Dumbledore isn't going to let him come back next year either," Hermione said gravely.

"No," Draco said. "And I can't say I blame him. But he's seventeen again. He's got his whole life ahead of him, and so do we. If you look at it a certain way, we helped give him back twenty years of his life."

Hermione gave Draco a look that was slightly bemused and slightly incredulous. "You know given enough time I think you could convince yourself that hurling that bludger at Harry last year was a noble act."

Draco very diplomatically decided not to tell Hermione that last year he _had_ thought that was a noble act. He moved on to another subject instead. "I think I may have figured out who's been spying on me. I've read back over the letters from my mother and tried to remember who would have been able to observe certain pieces of information. It has to be someone in Astronomy class. I think it might be Blaise Zabini."

Hermione had listened intently, but she shook her head when he mentioned Zabini. "It's not him."

Draco had been hoping for a more affirmative response and felt a little bitter at having his theory shot down. "How do you know?"

"Just trust me on this one."

Draco looked at Hermione suspiciously. Blaise couldn't be the unwelcome factor, could he?

Hermione's expression was thoughtful rather than fond however. "What about the others? Crabbe and Goyle for example."

Draco felt his stomach lurch. "I don't think it's them," he murmured. He had no logical reason to think this, but the idea was repulsive. They had grown up together. It would hurt too much if Crabbe or Goyle were involved.

"What about those other two girls?"

"You mean Alice and Indigo?" Draco gave the door at the top of the stair. "I think this sort of thing is a bit out of their league." _Why are you so certain it isn't Blaise?_

"Maybe you don't know them as well as you think," Hermione said coolly.

A loud whistle sung out from overhead causing Draco and Hermione to look up. Professor Sinistra was leaning over the top rail, looking down at them. "Hey, love birds. Do you think you could fly up here so I can start class?"

Draco was not sure whether to be amused or horrified. He was leaning towards amused, but Hermione had gone with horrified. She walked quickly to the staircase and started up. "I'm never going to hear the end of this," she grumbled.

Draco followed Hermione up. _It's fate, Granger. Stop trying to resist._

o

* * *

o

Draco yawned widely before giving the password to the Slytherin common room. "_Veritaserum_." There was a low fire burning in the otherwise dark dungeon. Most everyone was in bed at this hour. Draco had taken his time coming back from Astronomy.

The light from the fire outlined one other occupant in the common room however. Pansy stood by one of the tables. She studied him, and Draco shifted the bag hung over his shoulder. "You're late," she said. "The others got back several minutes ago. What kept you?"

"What do you want, Pansy?" Draco asked evenly.

Pansy stepped towards him. "I'm wondering what it takes to turn Draco Malfoy into a blood traitor."

"I'm not a blood traitor. I grew up," Draco said flatly. "You should try it."

Pansy made a dismissive sound. "You could have fooled me. Do you have any idea how many times I've defended you this year? Do you even care anymore?"

"Not really."

Pansy shook her head as though she could not begin to comprehend him. "You know I didn't believe Indigo when she said you went out of your way to sit by the Mudblood. Surely not Draco, I thought. I guess I was ignoring the signs. Mother warned me there might be more truth to that Quibbler article than I'd like to admit. Were you shagging Granger this summer, or is she just your most recent?"

Draco felt anger rise within him and not just because of the affront to his and Hermione's honor. "You tell your mother every little thing about me?" he spat at her in an acid tone. It was starting to click for him now. Pansy had not needed to be in Astronomy to know he was talking to Granger. Her gossip network was nearly as expansive as the spying eyes of the school portraits. Her mother had been a good friend with his since their school days. Of course she told her everything Pansy wrote home about him. Draco was angry at himself for not having put it together before.

Pansy shrugged in an unconcerned sort of way. "I don't see why I shouldn't. It's not like you write home. You're a lousy son."

Draco felt his anger boil over. Pansy's cool, unapologetic demeanor in the face of the fear and anxiety she had caused set off a roar inside him.

He raised his hand to strike her, and she tumbled backward. His hand hung in the air behind his ear, poised to strike. She flinched, closed her eyes, and waited for the blow. It never came.

Draco's hand stayed in the air. The muscles of his arm were stiff with fury but unmoving. It was not because he could not hit Pansy. It was more that he knew could. And it was not for fear of punishment that he hesitated, because Pansy would never hold it against him. She would not try to stop him. She had not even brought her hands up to shield her face. She just cringed and waited.

And he knew with incredible clarity that this was why he should never have a relationship with her. She would never resist him. He would always hurt her because she would accept every abuse. He would despise her for her weakness and abuse her again. And the cycle would continue until she broke, and he became the monster he had always feared he might.

The clarity did not make him less angry with her. If anything, it sharpened his rage into loathing. It took an incredible force of will to put his hand down and turn away from her.

"Get out," he said through clinched teeth.

Pansy relaxed from her cringe and sank the rest of the way to the floor. "Were you really going to hit me?" she asked with a wide-eyed shriek.

He could not speak, but he let her see the rage, the violence in his eyes.

She began to cry. Tears rolled out of her brown eyes over the pink flush on her porcelain cheeks. "What's wrong with you?" she demanded. Her thin fingers clinched into a fist on her lap. "What's wrong with you, Draco? First you're not eating, you mope about so, you abandon your friends, and now you spend all you time with that silver haired freak and that Mudblood. I don't understand you. Why do you want to hit me? I only wrote mother because I was worried about you! You know I tell her everything. You know it! Why are you so angry with me?"

There was something highly reminiscent of a toddler in the way she raged, and while Draco would like to think no temper tantrum from Pansy could affect him, this one did. It did not quell his anger, but it softened it. Probably because this was as honest as Pansy ever had been with him, and he knew, however misguided her attempts to help had been, she was genuinely worried about him.

"I'm sorry," Draco said. With an effort, he extended his hand to help her up.

Pansy sniffled and stared at his hand uncertainly. "I don't understand."

_No, you don't_. "I'm sorry, Pansy," he said again. _Because I've hurt you too, far more than I meant to._ He took her hand and helped her to her feet. "I'm sorry I can't explain it all for you."

"Why not?" she asked softly. "You used to tell me everything."

_No, I didn't_. Feeling a flash of pity, Draco embraced Pansy. She wrapped her arms around his shoulders tightly, still shuddering from her tears. "For the record, I haven't been shagging anyone."

Pansy let out a jerky laugh. "I know," she sniffled. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said that." She cuddled her head against his neck. "I get silly when I'm jealous. I say things I shouldn't. I feel awful about it, but you shouldn't make me jealous. It not fair of you."

Draco ran his hand up and down her back to sooth her. "We're too much alike, love," he said quietly. "And we don't have anything in common."

"How can you say that?" Pansy asked breathily. She pulled back enough to look in Draco's eyes. "We have plenty in common."

Draco smoothed back a bit of Pansy's hair. "Just the wrappings. Not the important stuff."

Pansy fingered Draco's collar. "Can't we stop fighting? I love you."

Draco let his hands slide away from Pansy's waist. "You can't love me, Pansy. You don't know me. I haven't let you." That was not the response Pansy had been wanting, but Draco met her eyes steadily. "And if I really loved you, I'd treat you better."

Pansy let her hands slide away. She walked quietly back to the stairs. She had settled back into her cool mask by the time she reached them and paused to say one last thing. "Don't kid yourself, Draco. I know you better than anyone. Better than any Mudblood ever could. You'll see."

o

* * *

o

Draco punched his pillow when he finally reached his dorm room, but in the morning, he was feeling a lot better about the whole thing. He had found his spy, or at least he had found out how his mother had been keeping an eye on him. He had already told the Death Eater he was trying to get close to Potter and Hermione so all he really had to worry about was making sure that Pansy did not get wind of the D.A. He could do that for a month. He caught hold of Persephone before breakfast and told her he was ready. She promised to do what she could.

Just to make sure the message got through, he dropped a note on Hermione's desk before taking his seat in Transfiguration. "Malfoy, what's going on?" Goyle asked quietly.

"Nothing," Draco lied. "Don't worry about it."

He heard nothing more about it until Friday afternoon. Persephone walked into the common room with an odd look on her face. "What is it?" Draco asked her.

She dropped onto the sofa beside him. "He kicked me out," Persephone said, knitting her brow as she found the whole thing too peculiar to be believed. "I went to see Severus, and he kicked me out. Said it wasn't appropriate for us to be alone together since he was a teacher now."

Draco pursed his lips tightly and tried to look concerned, but he was much closer to laughing.

"Here," Persephone said, pulling a Galleon out of her pocket and dropping it into Draco's hand.

"What's this?" he asked.

"It's for the D.A.," she said. "The numbers along the edge tell you when the meetings are."

"Oh!" Draco said happily, turning the coin over so he could look at the date. "That's tonight."

"Yeah, I told Harry you'd be coming," Persephone said in a vague voice. "He wants you to come a few minutes late so he can warn everyone." She fell back against the back of the couch. "I can't believe he kicked me out." Draco patted her shoulder reassuringly.

Persephone agreed to come late with him, so that he would not have to enter the Room of Requirement alone. Draco paced three times in front of the tapestry of Barnabas the Barmy until the door appeared. He felt a little nervous but refused to let it show. He heard voices as he opened the door. The Room of Requirement had added two long tables since he had been in it last. The walls were plastered with maps and charts and posters. What Draco noticed most, though, were the students. There had to be at least fifty of them, crowded about the two long tables, and deep in conversation. The conversations started to drop off as people noticed Draco entering the room.

Potter had been leaning over the far end of one table conversing with Padma. He straightened and walked down the center aisle. It seemed rude to make Potter do all the work, so Draco stepped forward to meet him in the middle. They stopped a few feet from each other. Draco did not know what to say besides _I'm here_, and that seemed redundant. Potter saved them from a long, awkward silence by extending his hand. "I'm glad you came," he said in formal tone.

By this point, the room was completely quiet. He was a little surprised by Potter's formality, but formal was something that he could handle. Draco took Potter's hand and shook it. "I'm here to help," he said in the same formal tone.

Potter's mouth twitched into an uncertain smile, and Draco suspected that he remembered too. "And um, I'm sorry about the thing with the bludger," he muttered in a voice just loud enough for Harry to hear as he took his hand back and stuck it in his pocket.

Potter gave him an uncertain look, followed by a slight nod. "Why don't you have a seat," Harry said, indicating an empty spot at one of the long tables. Draco sat down, and Persephone joined him. "We're discussing Voldemort's attack. Or I should say the possibility of an attack on the school."

Hermione emerged from the crowd with a scroll. "You'll need to sign this," she said, unrolling a contract that boasted a fair number of names already and handing him a quill. Persephone handed him a book to use as a flat surface since he had sat down with his back to the table. Draco put the book in his lap and poised the quill over the parchment.

He had expected Harry to keep talking, but Potter paused in his speech and watched Draco expectantly.

"I am allowed to read it first, aren't I?" Draco asked.

Harry gave Draco a look as though biting back a sigh. Thankfully it was not a long document. Draco reached the end of it and signed with a flourish. Harry gave him a long-suffering smile. "Could you tell the others what the Death Eater said to you?"

Nothing like being put on the spot right off. Draco was careful not to look at anyone in the room other than Potter. "He just said that when the time comes I would have to stand with them or die with the others. I asked him what that meant, and he said it would be obvious."

"That's it?"

**"**That's it."

"That could mean anything," Ernie Macmillan said in a disappointed tone.

"But it supports our theory," Harry said.

Draco allowed himself to look around now. He spotted Victoria and a couple sixth year Slytherins. Several people had doubtful expressions. After spending two months preparing for an attack and not seeing any sign of one, it was only natural that they would begin to have misgivings.

"Potter, why don't you just admit he might not be coming?" Zacharias Smith asked.

"I know he's coming," Harry said, twisting his fist into his hand as though he drive the conviction into the others that way. "It's just a question of when."

"The dance," Persephone said softly from Draco's side. He turned to look at her curiously as did everyone else who was close enough to hear. She noticed the stares and shrunk back against the table as though pretending she had not said anything.

"Did you get another flash?" Draco prompted her.

"No, not exactly," Persephone said, not meeting his eyes. "But it makes a certain amount of sense doesn't it? Everyone will be distracted." Her voice grew stronger as she continued. "And a lot of students don't take their wands to formals."

Harry looked skeptical at this last sentence. "I took my wand with me to the Yule Ball," he said.

"I didn't," Parvati Patil admitted. "It stuck out in my dress robes."

Draco felt something click. "The dress robes. My mother sent me dress robes with protections woven in for Christmas." He kept his eyes on Harry to see if the significance clicked for him as well. It did.

Potter nodded and paced towards the front of the room.

"We're not going to cancel the dance again are we?" Annie Howard asked in a disappointed tone.

"No," Harry said. His eyes were moving quickly as though looking at something the other could not see. "We're going to set a trap for him."

"Harry!" Hermione exclaimed in a startled tone.

"Why not?" Harry said, looking around at the startled faces of the D.A. "Even if we cancel the dance, the Death Eaters may try to attack anyway. The less they realize we're prepared for them the better. We are Dumbledore's Army. This is our home, our school, we have to defend it."

It was almost awe inspiring to see Potter in full form. Draco had not had the opportunity before. Some people were nodding resolutely, but there were a lot of uncertain and even frightened faces in the room. "Potter's right," Draco said loudly. "We're going to have much better chance if we fight them on our own terms."

"We?" Longbottom exclaimed, giving Draco a flabbergasted look. "Malfoy, you've been in the D.A. for ten minutes!"

"And it only took me ten minutes to see that Potter is on track!" Draco shot back and jumped to his feet. "We better have a plan because you can bet sure as hell the Death Eaters are going to have one. And they're going to come in ready to kill. You can't expect to negotiate. You can't expect mercy. If you want to survive, you're going to have to fight! Better here. Better together, than to let them pick us off one by one after school ends."

"Exactly," Harry said. "We've already been drilling for what to do in case the Death Eaters attack. This is just a more elaborate version. We've got nearly a month to plan." Draco sensed he should sit back down and let Potter run the show. He caught Hermione looking at him with something akin to awe as he sat back down beside her. He felt his heart pound in his chest and doubted this was simply the effect of his impassion speech.

"Harry," Hermione spoke up. "What are we going to tell Dumbledore?"

Harry paused, his face intense with concentration as he turned the matter over in his head. "Nothing," he said after a few seconds. "We can't involve Dumbledore or any of the teachers. They'll be more worried about protecting us than helping us fight."

"You want to do this without the teachers?"

"The teachers will be there," Harry said. "It's unlikely they'll be wandering around the castle without their wands. I've already warned Dumbledore that we think it's possible the Death Eaters might attack. They'll be on guard. And Tonks will be there. We can find ways to summon the Aurors once the attack begins, but I want Voldemort to be committed. He won't be able to Apparate away once he's on the grounds."

Potter continued on, explaining and expanding. He wanted the prefects to act as officers in his army, which left Draco responsible for Slytherin. "We need to bring in as many sixth and seventh year students as possible," Harry said. "But carefully. Word of this can not leave the school, and it can't reach the teachers."

Draco nodded, plans beginning to form in his mind. Harry broke the D.A. into small groups and gave them each a different aspect of the plan to work out. Once the different committees were underway, he sat down at the table near Draco, Persephone, and Hermione. "Hermione told me you figured out who was spying on you."

"I did," Draco said.

"Who was it?"

Draco hesitated. Once he had gotten over his initial anger with Pansy, he was starting to feel guilty about the way he had treated her. In her own way, she had simply been doing what she thought was right. "I'd rather not say. I can make sure they don't find out anything important."

"Draco," Hermione said in a warning tone. At this point, Weasley joined them. He sat next to Potter and listened with a surly expression.

"Fine, it was Pansy," Draco whispered. "I don't think she's actively spying so much as she's was writing home to her mother about me, and her mother told my mother, etcetera."

"Told you!" Persephone gloated.

Draco bit back a retort. "Anyway, I wouldn't put it past her to do a bit of active spying if she thought something was up. I think it's best to keep her out of the loop."

"I'm going to have to trust your judgment," Harry said. Weasley made a face, but Hermione gave him a reproachful glance so Draco did not mind. "But bring in as many as you can. It's going to be hard enough fighting Death Eaters without fighting other students as well."

"I'll do what I can," Draco said. "Persephone, you can start talking to the sixth years."

She nodded and smiled encouragingly. "Some of them have joined already," she said. "Not everyone came to the meeting today."

"Hey, Harry, I've got it," Lavender Brown said as she approached them.

"Excellent," Harry said. "Come on, Persephone."

Persephone twisted around and eyed the crystal ball in Lavender's hand apprehensively. "Harry, no!" she whined.

"I want details," Harry said, unsympathetically, and stood back up. "Come on."

Persephone gripped Draco's arm. "Go on," he told her gently. "It can't hurt to look."

Lavender put a gentle hand on Persephone's arm to encourage her to stand. Persephone got up with the air of one walking to an execution and joined Harry at a small table in the corner. Draco propped his elbow on the table and smiled at Hermione. "So how am I doing on my first day?"

Hermione laughed and shook her head.

Weasley looked appalled. "Malfoy, stop flirting with Hermione," he hissed. "It's creepy."

Draco raised his eyebrows and contemplated ways to respond to that. Everything he could think of ran the chance of getting him hexed, so he decided it was best not say anything. Victoria approached the table and sat down in the spot Potter had vacated. Weasley gave her a nervous glance and scooted over to give her more room. Draco smiled at her. "Why if it isn't my favorite person!" he said brightly, just to watch Weasley twitch. Victoria just blinked at him. "Actually, Victoria, I'd like to get your help with something."

o

* * *

o

Draco knew what he had to do. That did not make it any easier. At breakfast, he made a public amends with Pansy and the Slytherin girls. Daphne made a lot of snide comments about his date with Hermione, but Draco let them slide. Pansy was unusually quiet, picking at her food, and avoiding Draco's eyes. Crabbe and Goyle were uneasy as well. Draco tried to draw them into a conversation about the last Quidditch match, but without much luck. If Quidditch could not distract them, they were pretty depressed about something.

After lunch, Draco cornered Daphne. She was more amiable after she had been able to get her digs in. He suspected his having an interest in Hermione did not bother her as much as it was good fodder for gossip. "Daphne, do you think you could keep Pansy busy for a couple hours this afternoon?"

"Probably," Daphne said, giving him a smug look. "Why?"

"I need to have a talk with the others," Draco said.

"You know Pansy's birthday is coming up this month," Daphne hinted.

"I remember," Draco said, the corner of his mouth twitching into a smile. "So not a word to her about it."

"Okay, Malfoy," Daphne said and gave his tie a playful tug. "But you owe me."

It took a little more effort getting the rest of the Seventh Years to gather in his dorm room. Alice, Millicent, and Indigo seemed a bit suspicious about being asked into the boys dormitory, but curiosity got the best of them. Draco waited until everyone was inside before shutting the door and warding it against prying ears, both extendable and the regular kind.

"What's this all about, Malfoy?" Crabbe asked grumpily from his seat on the bed.

"That's actually what I'm ready to tell you," Draco said. "But it has to be understood that nothing said here leaves this room." The others looked at each other uncomfortably. Draco went to his trunk and pulled out a parchment. "This is a contract stating that you will not discuss what you hear in this room with anyone outside of it. No exceptions."

"What about Pansy and Daphne?" Indigo asked. Somewhere over the past few months her hair had transitioned back to it's natural color.

"No exceptions," Draco repeated. He signed his own name as an example and passed the parchment to Blaise.

"What happens if we don't sign?" Zabini asked.

"Then you leave the room," Draco said. "And continue on in your ignorance. I won't force anyone to sign, but I suggest you do. Ignorance is more likely to be a trap than a protection."

Blaise signed and passed the parchment to Indigo, who swallowed nervously but added her own name as well. It took a long time for the parchment to make its way around to everyone. Alice, Nott, and Crabbe each hesitated before putting their names down. "What will happen if we try to tell someone?" Indigo asked, grasping nervously at the clasp of her robes.

Draco took the parchment from Crabbe and opened his trunk. "If I understand the curse Victoria helped me put on the parchment, you won't be able to. If you try to speak it, you'll lose your voice. If you try to write it down, you'll lose the ability. I'm not sure what trying to gesture it out would do to you, but I don't recommend experimenting."

Indigo's eyes widened fearfully, and she pressed her back against the wall. Draco rolled up the scroll and tucked it away inside his trunk.

"What is it you need to tell us?" Blaise prompted calmly.

"What happened to me this summer," Draco said and proceeded to tell them. He told them about the Death Eaters and his conversation with Voldemort. He told them about being offered the mark and witnessing the murder of Evra Tomes. Indigo gasped and covered her mouth with her hand. Alice and Nott looked a little ill. Millicent and Goyle had their hands clasped together. Blaise and Crabbe were both hard to read.

"Why didn't you tell us before?" Crabbe asked.

Draco let out a slow breath. "Because if I told you, I'd have to think about it." He felt lump form in his throat and swallowed it down. Even now it was hard to fight back the images. "I was a coward. I was too afraid to do anything to save Mrs. Tomes. I was too afraid to speak. I was afraid of what you would think of me. But I'm tired of being afraid. I'm going to stand with Potter. I'm going to fight him."

"Then why'd you stop coming to the Forum?" Goyle asked.

"I told you," Draco said with a weak shrug. "I was scared. I thought I could stay neutral, but they're not going to let me."

"Why did you miss the train?" Indigo asked.

Draco had to edit his story a little bit. He told them about finding Persephone but left vague her relationship to Potter and who had put her in the painting in the first place. He made it sound as though it had simply been some Death Eater. He did tell them that Voldemort had killed her father and brother. He told them why he had refused to share his snack box or go home for Christmas. He told them about the Death Eater in the Shrieking Shack. "He said when the time came I would have to stand with them or die like the rest."

"But I can't stand with them after what I've seen. Voldemort doesn't care about us. He's not the champion of purebloods. He's just using them to gain power. There's no hope for us in joining the Death Eaters."

"What other choice do we have?" Crabbe asked.

"The D.A.," Draco said. "Potter has opened the invitation for all of you to join."

"Potter?" Nott repeated with a distasteful look.

Crabbe knitted his brows in concentration as though the pieces were slowly rolling into place for him. "Is that why you've been talking to Granger?"

"Partially," Draco said, deciding this was as good a time as any. "That, and I've had crush on Hermione for ages. I've just been too scared to admit it." Crabbe and Goyle gave him peculiar look. Alice quirked her eyebrows, and Millicent smirked at him. Indigo looked shocked, but then she had looked shocked since the meeting began.

"But she's a Mudblood," Crabbe said. His expression riddled with confusion. "And you hated her."

Draco winced, not really wanting to lose the focus of the meeting. Nor, did he want his friends to realize how screwed up he had been, when he was trying to win their confidence. "I hated the fact she was Muggle-born. I thought it was wrong to be attracted to her, that it was dirty. It made me hate myself, and I'm tired of that too. She's not dirty. I'm not dirty. You have no idea how much peace it gave me to realize it." His friends were still wearing disturbed expression so he added, "If it makes you feel any better, none of the rumors are true. Hermione and I are finally talking to each other, but that's the extent of it. And I don't expect any of you to like it or like her or anything."

"Good," Crabbe grunted.

Draco bit back a sigh. "The important thing is that you know the truth."

"I really liked Mrs. Tomes," Indigo said softly. "She was always very nice."

Draco felt his stomach churn. "Nothing is going to be nice if Voldemort takes over." Alice and Nott shuddered at the sound of the name.

"Why'd you have to tell us this?" Alice whimpered.

"Because I want you to do something about it. I want you to join the D.A. and learn to fight against Voldemort. We stand a better chance if we stand together."

"You want us to fight our fathers?" Crabbe said indignantly.

"Your father," Nott muttered.

"Yeah," Crabbe barked. "My father."

"And mine," Draco reminded them. "And Goyle's. And Victoria's."

"And-and Pansy's," Indigo said. "Why did you leave her out? Shouldn't you tell her about Mrs. Tomes."

"Perhaps, but I think Pansy's still too enamored with the Dark Lord," Draco said. "I think she'd try to find some way to warn the Death Eaters about what we're planning. I can't take that risk."

"And Daphne?"

"Well, if you tell you one, you may as well tell the other," Draco said with a shrug. Nott let out an amused snort.

"What are you planning?" Goyle asked.

Draco straightened up. "We think Voldemort is going to attack the school." There was a collective in take of startled breath at that news, though Blaise and Millicent did not look too surprised. Indigo actually grasped Alice's sleeve.

"Here?" she asked, panic-stricken.

"Here," Draco said. "At the Leaving Dance. I want you all to stand with us, against him. Against Voldemort. We can't be fighting each other while we fight him."

"You want us to betray our fathers!" Crabbe growled.

"We're not the traitors. Our fathers betrayed us when they joined the Death Eaters," Draco said hotly. "They left us for Voldemort. They're trapped by their choices, but that doesn't mean we have to make the same mistakes. We have to let them face the consequences of their actions. We have to make our own choices."

Draco forced himself to speak calmly. "I'm not taking the mark. I'm going to fight."

"Your own father?" Crabbe said reproachfully.

"If I have to," Draco said, though he felt himself blanche a bit at the thought. "Look, Potter isn't like Voldemort. He doesn't want us to try to kill anyone. Don't think of this like a duel. We have to stun them, bind them, maybe let them spend time in Azkaban. But the only one we want to kill is Voldemort, and that's Potter's job. The rest of us just need to be ready to defend ourselves, keep the Death Eaters busy."

"But they'll be willing to kill us won't they?" Indigo said nervously.

"I hope our fathers will back down when they see us standing against the Dark Lord, but yes, it's possible," Draco said grimly. "Hopefully, the Death Eaters are planning to keep the students alive as hostages, but we know they're not above killing."

"We could just be hostages," Alice suggested timidly. "I mean we're pureblood so…" But Draco had already told them what Voldemort was willing to do to a pureblood. "It's just we're students. What chance do we stand against the Death Eaters?"

"We out number them," Draco told her evenly. He had asked himself that question more than once, so the answers came readily. "They'll be fighting on our territory, and that gives us an advantage. We'll be organized and expecting them, and they won't be expecting that. We have plans in place to summon the Aurors and others to help. I wouldn't be doing this if I thought we didn't stand a chance. The odds get much better the more of use who are willing to fight. I'm confident we can win if we band together. There's more, but I need you to commit, before I can disclose it to you. I know it will mean a better future for all of us. I wouldn't ask otherwise. It's time for us to make a stand for ourselves, for each other, against Voldemort. I need you to choose." He paused, steeling himself. "Who will fight with me?"

Blaise had been resting on his elbows on his bed, listening to Draco's story in nearly a state of repose. He stood. His face still plastered with the same intense calm. He held his hand out to Draco. "Bastard killed my mother. I'll fight him."

Draco took Blaise's hand. Understanding for the first time why Hermione had been so sure about him. Millicent stood. Goyle looked startled as she placed her hand over theirs. "I'll fight him."

Nott placed his hand over hers and shrugged. "My family's always supported the Ministry."

Goyle's face worked hard with concentration. He knocked his fists against the sheet as he came to a decision. He stood and placed his heavy hand over Millicent's. Nott had to readjust his hand, but he smiled benignly at the determined set in Goyle's eyes. Indigo glanced nervously at Blaise and Draco before inching forward and placing her own hand on the group.

"Oh…" Alice groaned. She looked like someone was asking her to swallow nasty medicine, but she broke away from the dresser and slapped her own hand on the knot. Draco gave them all a tight smile and turned his eyes on Crabbe.

Crabbe sat stubbornly on his bed glaring at the lot of them as though they were mad. No one spoke. They simply waited for him. Draco knew what it was to be in Crabbe's place. It had taken him all year to get to this point. Still, it was hard to wait as the minutes passed by.

"How do you he won't do to us what he did to her?" Crabbe asked at length.

It made Draco's heart twinge to hear the fear in his friend's voice. He understood it all too well. "I don't," he admitted. "But it's a risk we have to take if we don't want to spend our lives living in fear."

"You're mental," Crabbe said, but he got to his feet. He gave Draco a long look before placing his hand over the others. "You owe us big time, Malfoy."

Draco laughed with the relief, and the others did as well. They let their hands fall apart, and Draco squeezed Crabbe's shoulder. He went through the details with them, bringing them up to speed as best he could, and passed fake Galleons to each of them.

"That reminds me," Crabbe said. "You still owe me a Christmas present for this year."

"Double," Draco promised. "Extra huge one come next year."

They dispersed. The girls leaving first, and the boys milling back to their own business. Draco pulled Blaise aside. "I didn't know about your mother," Draco said. "I'm sorry."

"I don't exactly talk about it much," Blaise said. "You're not the only one who's been scared." Blaise's steady gaze pierced Draco. He knew he had been the main cause of that fear.

"New day," Draco said awkwardly. "Um…you didn't seem too surprised about Hermione."

Blaise grinned. "Malfoy, I've been watching you watch Hermione Granger for six years. I'm just surprised it took you this long."

Draco ran his hand through his hair, grinning himself. "Guess I'm a little slow."

Blaise shrugged. "I'd be a hypocrite if I called you that," he said. "Ought to be an interesting dance this year."

o

* * *

o

Draco had been avoiding the prefects' bathroom for much of the year, preferring those in the Slytherin dormitories. It seemed silly to him now, but he had been hiding, avoiding Potter, avoiding everything.

A lot of things seemed silly to Draco right now. The danger was still real, but for the first time in ages he felt safe. He opened the door to the prefects' bathroom and walked inside. Weasley was on his way out. Draco thought it might be a good idea to extend an olive branch to Harry and Hermione's mutual friend, so he forced himself to give Weasley a small smile as he passed.

The impact of Weasley's fist knocked him on his rump before he was fully aware of the blow. Draco raised his arm to guard his face and looked up at Weasley in alarm. "What the hell?"

Ron was glaring down at Draco as though he would like nothing better than to squish him beneath his shoe and was annoyed that his feet were not quite large enough for the task. "You greasy little ferret," Weasley spat.

Draco thought Weasley looked mad enough to take another swing if he tried to get back up again, so Draco stayed on the floor. "What?"

"What do you want with Hermione?"

Draco was surprised enough to momentarily forget the punch. Weasley? _Weasley_ was the unwelcome factor. He had been so certain it was Potter. What could Hermione see in this overgrown Neanderthal? What would they talk about? Granted they were both prefects and helped Potter with his world saving and probably had some other Gryffindor common ground Draco was not aware of...But _Weasley?_

Draco touched his face and found blood. His lip had split.

Then again. Hermione _had_ agreed to go the dance with Draco. So either Ron was slacking off on his wooing or Hermione was not as interested in him as he was in her. Or Hermione was using him to make Ron jealous. If so, she would be happy to know it was extremely effective.

_This is ridiculous._ Draco told himself. _You can stand up to Lord Voldemort. You can stand up to Ron Weasley._ "What do you want with her?" Draco asked. The getting to his feet part was a bit slower going than he would have liked, but Weasley made no move to stop him.

Instead, Ron backed up a step. "What do you mean?"

"I mean that you seem to take offense that I've taken an interest in her," Draco said massaging his back. He was not sure which end of him hurt more. "Normally that means you have some sort of interest in her as well."

"She's my friend!" Ron all but shouted.

"And how exactly am I threatening that?" Draco asked. He took a few sideways steps towards the mirrors.

"You're using her," Weasley said, though he was beginning to sound uncertain.

"I wasn't aware," Draco said, continuing his progress. "Care to enlighten me?"

"You're so full of it," Ron muttered.

"Full of what? Charm? Razor sharp wit?" Draco winced when he caught sight of himself in the mirror. "Geez, Weasley, why do you always fight like a Muggle?"

"Why are you such a git?"

"Years of practice." Draco splashed cold water on his lip. It was not pretty, but nothing out of Madam Pomfrey's ability to put back in order. He would need her to check his teeth while she was it. "I'm not using her."

"What else would you want with her?"

_Weasley, if you haven't had that talk with your father yet_…Draco bit his tongue, partly because he knew talk of that kind would earn him another fist, deservedly so this time, and partly because whatever he was starting to build with Hermione was better than that. It was not worth hurting her just to tick off Weasley. However tempting a prospect that may be.

"I mean everyone knows you can't stand Muggle-borns," Ron continued.

_Oh fine, bring up a valid point now._ Draco pressed his hands on the side of the sink and looked at Ron, who had moved up to stand at the end of the sink row. "Were you sleeping during the D.A. meeting? I—changed—my—mind."

"People like you don't change," Ron snorted. He narrowed his eyes. "I saw what you fear, Malfoy. Just remember Voldemort isn't the only one who can kill you."

"Are you threatening me, Weasley?"

Ron made a mock-innocent face. "Don't be thick, Malfoy. If you stand by what you said in the meeting, then we're on the same side. Then again if you don't…yeah, it's a threat." Weasley gave Draco a pointed look and walked to the bathroom door. "And you'll keep your hands off Hermione, if you know what's good for you."

Draco waited until the door had shut back behind Ron before grabbing a towel.

o

* * *

o

He told Madam Pomfrey he had had a run in with a particularly thick bludger. He let himself indulge in a lot of dark thoughts and elaborate plots for revenge against Ron, while she put his face back in order. In the end, he decided the best revenge would be to stick to the original plan. He doubted Ron would have attacked him if Harry or Hermione had been around. Maybe the redheaded oaf would relax after a few more meetings. If not, Draco could just spend the rest of the year avoiding the prefects' bathroom.

Having not quite decided whether to go back to the Slytherin dorms or just get out of the castle, Draco headed for the main entry hall after he left the hospital wing. It was a beautiful Sunday. Anyone not studying for exams was already outside. Lunch was long over and dinner a ways off, leaving the entry hall mainly deserted.

One lone figure was passing as Draco came to the top of the marble stairs. The girl took no notice of him and stopped in the center of the entry to adjust her bootlaces. Draco began his descent. He knew the girl below was Ginny Weasley. She was the only one with hair quite that color and cut. Ginny was pretty in her way. Red hair and freckles had never been Draco's thing, and he was feeling particularly adverse to them at the moment. Still he found himself watching Ginny. She was taking her time with her laces, lost in a world of thought.

Draco became aware of the lack of portraits in the entry hall. He supposed there were usually enough people in this part of the castle that they were not needed to keep an eye on things. Not at this moment though. Right now it was just him and Ginny.

What exactly triggered the thought, Draco would never be able to say, but his mind informed him that he could attack Ginny and no one would be the wiser. He did not have anything in particular against Ginny. She had hit him with a bat bogey a couple years back which had been rather uncomfortable, but Draco had transferred the blame for that onto Potter ages ago. Still, he found himself stepping softly from one step to the next, wondering how close he could come before she noticed. By the time he had reach the halfway point on the steps, his mind had planned out the perfect murder.

He would not even have to use magic. He was a lot taller than Ginny, probably a fair bit stronger by the Muggle measures. He could pull his sleeves over his hands, grab her from behind, and snap her neck. Even if that did not quite do it, there was a broom closet just a few feet away. He could drag her their, keep her mouth covered until she suffocated. Even witches had to breath. He would leave her in there. It could be hours before she was discovered. He could have a good alibi worked out by then. Ginny had been on Voldemort's list. Killing her would probably be impressive enough to get him back in Voldemort's graces, back on his parents' side.

Draco reached the foot of the steps, and Ginny finished tying her shoe. Another second and the opportunity would be gone. Draco made his choice and stepped forward quickly.

"Hey, Weasley," he said as he passed her on his way out the door.

"Hey, Malfoy," she said hefting her bag onto her shoulder. "You know we're going to cream you on the pitch next weekend, right?"

Draco looked over his shoulder. "Ha! You wish!"

o

* * *

1. English: "I miss my friends." Persephone speaks French, but I don't. Feel free to e-mail me corrections.


	19. The Change in Professor Snape

**Disclaimer:** This story is based on the Harry Potter novels written by J.K. Rowling. All characters created by J.K. Rowling are owned by J.K. Rowling. The few characters created by me (i.e. Persephone, Hotchet, Kagome…) belong to me, but are available for use in other fics as long as I get credited as their creator. None of us are making any money off this and no infringement is intended.

* * *

o

**Level 1.8: The Change in Professor Snape**

Harry and Ron tried to distract themselves with a game of wizard chess in the common room, though they both regretted that they had not ignored Hermione and found out what Persephone had been in a panic about. Harry had managed to take Ron's queen by the time Hermione returned an hour later.

"_What_ turned blue?"

"Oh, just a Potions project Persephone had been working on." Hermione took a seat beside them. Harry thought she looked a little ill. "We'd been trying to coach her through it. But well, it's just a big mess now."

"I thought it might be something serious," said Harry.

"It is pretty serious actually," said Hermione. "She's been doing really badly in classes. I don't think she's going to be able to come back next year."

"WHAT?" Harry shouted, already starting to envision another high volume visit to the Headmaster's office. "Can't she just retake the year? Shouldn't she get some sort of allowance for special circumstances?"

Hermione pressed her lips together. "Normally they'd allow that, but I don't think she wants to come back. It's just not the same for her."

"Well, it's gotta be a little weird going to classes with your friends' kids," Ron said sympathetically.

Hermione gave him a small smile. "I got Malfoy to tell Dumbledore about the Shrieking Shack and the rest of it."

"Is that what took so long?"

Hermione nodded. "What do you want to do about him?" she asked.

"Thought he was your pet project," Ron muttered.

"I have enough projects," said Hermione. "Seriously, what do we do with him?"

"I dunno," said Harry. "Hard to do much if he still won't come to the D.A. meetings, but I'll think about it."

Harry thought about it, but he had other things on his mind. He wanted to talk Persephone out of giving up on her education, but she would not listen to him for more than a few minutes. "Harry, I'm thirty-six. I'll be thirty-seven in a few days. I'm just too old to be in school. I want to get out and start living my life."

Besides the rumors about Draco and Hermione that were flying around, which Harry did his best to ignore, there was a lot of speculation about Professor Snape who had once again disappeared from the staff table. Most people agreed that he was in the hospital wing, but no one was quite sure why. The other teachers took turns filling in for him during the first two day of Potions class, but on Wednesday morning Harry heard he would be returning in time for theirs.

Harry caught a lot of whispered "Did you see what happened to Professor Snape?"s that made him think whatever it was must have been disfiguring in some way. A few years ago, the idea might have delighted him. Now he found himself more curious than anything, and perhaps a little concerned but not overly so. Snape must have been well enough to teach after all.

He and Hermione sat in their regular seats by Neville. Malfoy had his own table towards the back. They had finished up their experiments a couple weeks ago. Harry had gotten a lot of remarks like _barely passable_ and _shows only the weakest comprehension of methodology_, but he was not too troubled by it. He did not want a career as a potions maker. He just needed to pass his N.E.W.T.s.

Another minute and Snape was going to be late for class. Hermione had pulled out her Potions text, so Harry did the same. He had just opened his book when the door to the Potions lab flung open.

"As you may or may not have heard, I have become the victim of my own negligence. An accident involving a Potions experiment has reverted me to my seventeen-year-old form. I'm afraid I can not tell you the nature of this experiment or what went wrong with it, as I have no memory of the incident or anything else that has occurred to me since the age of seventeen. As such, I do not remember any of your names and must ask your forbearance as I relearn them."

Snape stopped in front of his desk and turned to face the class. At least Harry thought it was Snape. He looked more like a student who had dressed up as the Potions Master. The clothing was Snape's, though this younger version seemed a bit smaller. He looked a lot like the fifth year Snape that Harry had seen in the Pensieve but something was off. People could change a lot in a year, particularly at that age. This seventeen-year-old version took more care with his appearance. His hair was cut a little differently. He was a little taller, but there was still something off that Harry could not place.

This young man in Snape's robes moved and spoke with fewer jerks and more confidence than the boy from the Pensieve, but he had not quite achieved the presence of his older self yet. There was the smallest hint of nervousness as the teenage Snape faced the class. "Since the term is so close to completion, Professor Dumbledore has decided that I will carry on in the position of Potions Master until the end of it. He will be seeking a suitable replacement for the next school year, but I should hope, being seventh years, that has little effect on any of you. While I do not claim to be nearly as well versed in the art of potion making at seventeen as I was at thirty-eight, I have left myself excellent notes, and I'm sure I am quite competent enough to lead you through the reviews for the N.E.W.T.s. I have been told I made Outstanding marks on them, though the Ministry may require me to retake them given my present condition has reverted me to a state several months prior to the exam."

The initial shock was starting to wear off. Murmurs and giggles were rising. Snape plunged on as if he could not hear them. "I hope you will all take this as a cautionary tale. Even the most experienced Potion makers can make mistakes and will if they are not cautious. The consequences of which can be dramatic if not devastating."

"You did that by accident?" Megan Jones gaped.

Neville looked a little white. "Is that even possible?" After all the loss of twenty years, while troublesome for Snape, would have been fatal for any of them. Most everyone looked at Hermione.

"Of course, it's _possible_," said Hermione, sounding a little flustered.

Several of the students turned to Draco, the closest thing they had to potions expert after Hermione, for a second opinion. Malfoy certainly spoke like an expert. "It's not common by any means," he assured them. "But yes, it's possible. He must have been experimenting with some very high level stuff."

"Exactly," said Hermione, though she did not turn her head to so much as glance at Malfoy.

Snape seemed rather annoyed to have lost the class's attention. He must have dealt with much younger students that morning. "It's understandable that you all have questions," he said, the nervousness more prominent in his tone now. "But I would prefer if we devote class time to the review. Please turn to page two hundred fifty-seven." He walked behind the Snape's desk and flipped opened his own copy of the text in demonstration.

"This is a joke."

The boy who looked like Snape raised his head and located the speaker. "And your name?"

"Terry Boot. Dumbledore can't-"

"Mr. Boot, I'll assume the shock has temporarily robbed you of your ability to conduct yourself properly in a classroom setting," said the young Snape. "I will be lenient this time and only take five points from Ravenclaw." His upper lip curled in a smile that was so reminiscent of their old Potions Master that everyone knew, however young he might be, they were still dealing with Snape.

"Can you do that?" Terry asked uncertainly.

Snape smile grew with wicked delight. "You'll find that I can. By all means continue talking, if you want to experiment with that supposition. No? Then let's continue on with the review, shall we? Page two hundred fifty-seven."

It was hard to say if anyone was really paying attention to the review. Everyone stayed quiet, because they did not know far this teenage teacher would go with his point taking. Hermione was clearly trying to set a good example by asking and answering questions at the right times. Malfoy was acting like this was simply another day in class, which made Harry wonder. A lot of people were passing notes, which Snape seemed willing to ignore as long as they made no noise doing it. A few people were just gaping. Daphne Greengrass looked like she had suffered from a severe disappointment.

Snape said he was willing to answer questions after the bell rang, provided they were asked respectfully. Once it was safe, many of the students crowded his desk. Malfoy slipped away immediately. Hermione expressed no interest in lingering either. Harry might have thought she was going to talk to Malfoy, but she tried to get Harry and Neville to come with her. Neville went, but Harry stayed. He had questions for Snape.

Harry's questions were not the sort he could ask in front of the other students though. He waited by his desk, hoping they would clear off, but the next class had started coming in. Snape dismissed the seventh years, but Harry stepped forward to ask Snape if he could have an interview later.

"You're Harry, right?" said Snape. "We can talk now. I have a few things I want to discuss with you as well. Let's go to my office."

"What about your next class?" Harry asked as he followed him from the room.

"Don't worry. It will be covered," Snape said with a vague wave of his hand.

Harry waited until they were safely inside Snape's office with the door closed and warded, before he asked any questions. "Have a seat," said the teenage Snape. He shifted a few items around on his desk.

"I'll stand thanks," said Harry.

This would have earned him a biting remark from the old Snape, but the teenage version did not seem to care. "It is creepy how much you look like James."

"So I've been told." Harry stared at Snape trying to think of the best way to begin the conversation, when he realized what was off about him. "Your teeth."

"Pardon?" said the young Snape, looking at Harry curiously.

"They're straight," said Harry. "Professor Snape's were all crooked. Teeth don't un-straighten, not that I'm aware of."

The other boy flashed a nervous smile, showing two rows of perfectly straight, white teeth. "I had Pomfrey fix them while I was in the hospital wing."

Harry frowned. "Why didn't you do that before?"

"Guess I didn't have a reason before."

Harry wondered what reason he had now. "So you have no memory?"

"That's right."

"So you don't remember what happened to you?"

"Very good."

"I mean. You can't know for certain that it was an accident. It could be possible the Death Eaters found a way—"

"I think if the Death Eaters wanted me out of the way, they would have done the job thoroughly and had me offed."

"So you're certain that it was an accident?"

Snape gave Harry a you-should-be-smarter-than-that look. "Potter, do you have any idea how complicated and time consuming a Younging Potion is? You can't brew one by accident."

Harry felt an uncomfortable knot in his stomach. "You did it on purpose? Why?"

Snape shrugged. "I don't remember."

"But your work for the Order. Are you still going to be able to spy like before?"

Snape made a face and perched himself on the edge of his desk. "I wouldn't want to even if I could. I managed to reset myself before I took the Dark Mark, and I really don't want to take it again. The process sounds rather unpleasant. Besides, from what Dumbledore told me, Voldemort had finally caught on that I wasn't on the up and up. He'd been using me to pass particular information that he _wanted _the Order to receive. Makes the spying less useful than it once had been. All I can hope is that he sees me as harmless, since I don't remember anything all that useful for either side…Maybe that's why I took the potion. I was getting rather sick of the whole mess."

Harry decided this was the right moment to get to his real question. "Doesn't have anything to do with Persephone, does it?"

"Oh yes, Persephone…she's what I needed to talk to you about."

"What about her?" Harry asked stiffly.

Snape tugged at his collar. "I know Persephone better than anyone. We've spent a lot of time together, and while she'll deny it, I have no doubts—"

"She's my aunt," Harry interrupted. _If you think I'd give you permission…_

"Thank you, Potter. I had worked that out." Snape shot Harry an annoyed look. "I don't think it matters how you're related. The fact remains that Persephone Potter is most gifted seer I've ever encountered."

Harry decided that he needed to stop expecting things. It always left him feeling wrong footed. "You really think she can see the future?"

"I don't think. I know." Snape walked over to a shelf crammed with books and pulled out a thin one with a dark green spine. "I started making notes back while I was at Hogwarts twenty some odd years ago of Persephone's predictions. Those things she calls flashes and some of her dreams. It seems that even after school I kept track of them. They haven't all come true yet, but I would say about sixty to seventy percent have."

Harry tried to remember his text from Divination. "That's pretty high isn't it?"

"It's exceptionally high," Snape said, giving Harry a very serious look. "She's been never wrong. Never."

Harry eyed the book in Snape's hand and thought about what this meant for him. If this was true, he had no further doubts about Voldemort's attack on the school. "That's good I suppose—that she's accurate."

"It's good…and bad," said Snape. "She used to cry after Divination classes. Said she kept trying to see us, me, her, Lucius, and Narcissa, all grown up together and couldn't. I guess we know why now."

Harry felt a bit of sympathy for his aunt. He knew what it was like to have people see a curse as a gift. Maybe gifts and curses went hand in hand. "Is there something in that book I should be worried about?" asked Harry.

"No, and I'd rather you didn't mention it to Persephone. I don't think she knows about it." Snape tapped the book against his hand. "It's not what's in the book that you should be worried about. It's something I left out."

"Go on."

"Not every dream Persephone has is prophetic. I didn't write down ones that were an obvious jumble or things that were completely beyond the realm of possibility." Snape stuck the book back into place on the shelf. "There was a night not too long ago…well, not very long ago in my memory. It's twenty years past. I was up late and Persephone came down to the common room, crying. She said she'd had a dream that upset her, so I asked her to tell me about it.

"She said there was boy that looked like James only he wasn't. She thought he was James' son. And there was a man with the face of a monster, white and serpent like. He and the boy were dueling. They were in a forest. The monster man used the killing curse and the boy fell to the ground and stopped moving. She said the monster man was laughing with the most terrible laugh. Apparently my older self had been working on a sort of memoirs, chronicling my experiences as a Death Eater. I've been reading it. Her description matches that of Lord Voldemort."

Harry felt a cold sensation creep up his spine. "Why didn't you write that down?"

"Because she said I was there. She made me promise to protect you. Protect Harry. I promised and trying to lighten the mood, I asked her how I looked twenty years from now. She said I was exactly the same, like I hadn't aged, so I told her not to worry. She said James' son had been about seventeen in the dream, so if it was real, I would have to be close to forty."

"Why didn't Persephone tell me about this dream?"

"I doubt she remembers. She forgets most of the predictions she makes. Particularly the dreams. She was only half awake when she told me about it and went back to sleep afterwards. I think it had left her mind by the next morning. I didn't think about it until I found this book yesterday."

Harry felt like someone had knocked the wind out of him. He was supposed to defeat Voldemort, not the other way around. "So what do I do? If she's always right?"

Snape's black eyes held no answers. "Avoid the forest?" he suggested. "Avoid Voldemort if you can. Just because she hasn't been wrong before doesn't mean this is certain. I just think you should take it seriously."

"I will." But Harry could not avoid Voldemort. What would it really gain him worrying about a dream from twenty years past? _Maybe I'm dreaming_, Harry thought. _Maybe I'll wake up tomorrow, and Snape will be normal again_. But he knew better. "I'd rather you didn't tell anyone about this, particularly not Persephone."

"No," Snape agreed. "It would hurt her. She always feels responsible when her predictions come to pass. And I'm not sure it's the wisest thing, trying to see the future. I haven't even told Dumbledore. He doesn't have much faith in divination, and I'd rather not push it right now."

"Don't imagine he's too happy about having to find a new Potions Master."

"No, he's not." The teenage Snape sat back down on the desk, letting his legs swing a bit. He stared at the dungeon office's tiny window. Harry tried to imagine what it would be like dropped twenty years into the future.

"Is it weird?" he asked. "Being here, now?"

Snape arched his eyebrows. "Weird would be an appropriate word. You know, the strangest part has been reading through those memoirs, the journal left by my older self. It's strange because there's this man with my name. And he's me, but then he's not me. He was a miserable, bitter man, who went through hell and dragged it around with him." The young Snape gave Harry an ironic smile. "I heard he gave you a rather hard time of it."

"A bit."

"Sorry…you know maybe I should be scared about the Death Eaters and war and all that, but they don't seem real yet. What frightens me—what really frightens me—is that I'm going to have to turn into him all over again."

"You won't," said Harry.

"How can you be sure?"

"Because it frightens you," said Harry. "Because your choices make you what you are. Because I think he wrote all that down, so that people like him wouldn't have to go through it, and you're not stupid enough to waste the effort."

Snape looked a little uncomfortable, as though he was not used to getting pep talks. "So, you play Quidditch?"

"Yeah," Harry forced himself to smile. "I'm the Gryffindor Seeker."

Snape smiled and looked out the window again. "I wanted to try out for Seeker. I was getting pretty decent at it. Lucius always made me play that position over the summer, because I couldn't throw or hit worth anything."

Harry tried to push the image of Snape and Lucius playing Quidditch out of his mind. "Why didn't you?"

Snape shrugged. "Persephone hates Quidditch."

Harry shifted his school bag to the other shoulder. That struck him as wrong somehow. "She told you not to try out?"

"No, she never said a word about it."

"Then why-" Harry knew that was not the right question, so he gritted his teeth and asked instead, "Are you in love with her?"

"I don't know," Snape said, pushing himself up from the desk. He frowned as though giving the matter serious thought. "Everything's happened so fast. I'm still a little disoriented. I fancied her a bit when we were students together, but I'm a teacher now. Wouldn't exactly be proper, would it?"

"No, it wouldn't," Harry agreed quickly. He did have some pity for this younger Snape though. Things had to be disconcerting enough without him thinking Harry had as much animosity for him as James had. Harry gave him an encouraging smile and fished around for something heartening to say. "Bet you're the youngest Professor Hogwarts has ever had."

Snape had been watching Harry warily, but that made him smile. "I had been hoping, but apparently not. They had a ten-year-old prodigy teaching Charms about three hundred years back."

"Seriously? I bet there was interesting story behind that."

"Yes, there probably was."

o

* * *

o

The next day Draco Malfoy dropped a crumbled bit of paper on Hermione's desk, before taking his own seat by Crabbe and Goyle. Hermione un-crumpled it, and what she read made her smile.

Ron's lip twitched with disgust. "He passing you love notes now?"

Hermione gave him a too sweet smile. "Would you like to read it, Ron?"

"No."

Harry, who seriously doubted it was a love note, asked, "What does it say?"

"He thinks he's figured out whose been spying on him," said Hermione with a satisfied smile. "He wants to join the D.A."

"That was quick," Ron muttered.

"He's been trying to figure it out for months, Ronald," Hermione whispered. "I helped him narrow down the suspects last night. Must have been the nudge he needed. I think the whole thing was half in his head, anyway. At least that's what Persephone said. Point is he's ready to commit."

"Still think the Death Eaters can have him," Ron muttered so quietly that Harry was sure the comment was not intended to reach Hermione's ears.

Harry, however, did not want the Death Eaters to have Draco. He wanted Malfoy's change of heart to be genuine. He wanted him to join the D.A. and get over his blood prejudices.

Since Persephone had joined the D.A., Harry had been waiting for Malfoy to follow her. He needed some resolution between himself and the Slytherins, with Malfoy in particular. He needed to leave the D.A. as strong as he could. Particularly if he was going to die.

Malfoy certainly wanted to join. He kept shooting Harry hopeful looks and sent Persephone with the same message that he had given Hermione. Harry wished Malfoy would just come talk to him directly. It would simplify things.

o

* * *

o

Harry and Ron went to visit Hagrid that afternoon, while Hermione was in Arithmancy. They had come unannounced, so Harry was not certain that Hagrid would be home.

As it turned out Hagrid was home, but he already had company. The sound of two flutes was rising from the step to Hagrid's front door as they approached. One of the flutes belonged to Hagrid. The other was being played by a small brown haired boy that Harry guessed to be a first year.

"Tha's right." He heard Hagrid say. "Now jus' put yer fingers over the first and third hole, an' give'er a blow." Harry just watched them for a few seconds. He remembered the wooden flute Hagrid had carved for him in first year. One of the first real Christmas presents he had ever gotten. It had never occurred to Harry that Hagrid might also teach him how to play it. It had sunk to the bottom of his chest in a box along with Sirius's mirror, which he had broken and repaired but never got to work. The missed opportunities made a small ache swell in Harry's chest.

"Ron! Harry! Just given Charles here a lesson." Hagrid beamed at them.

The first year got to his feet. Harry could see his Slytherin tie and crest now. "Charles Bulstrode," he said extending his hand. "I believe you know my sister, Millicent."

"Um, yeah," said Harry, shaking Charles' hand to be polite. "I'm Harry Potter."

"And Ron Weasley right?" Charles said extending his hand to Ron. "The Gryffindor Keeper."

"Um, yeah, that's me," Ron said, looking a little surprised and not unpleased that Charles seemed as eager to shake hands with him as Harry.

"I think Charles intends to be our next Minister of Magic," Hagrid said good-naturedly.

The Slytherin boy flushed slightly. "I don't know about that. I'm just a Quidditch fan."

o

* * *

o

Ron was in a pretty good mood when they met up with Hermione in the common room that afternoon. They had settled around a table and pulled their homework out when Ron cleared his throat. "Okay, Hermione, I'm not waiting until the last minute this time. Will you go to the dance with me?"

Hermione looked stricken. "Oh, Ron."

"You're the first one I've asked," Ron added in a persuasive tone.

"I'm sorry."

Ron seemed to deflate a bit. "What do you mean?"

"I'm so sorry. Someone already asked me." Hermione flinched and looked twice as apologetic.

"You're joking!" Ron exclaimed, but it was obvious she was not. "It's a full month away!"

"I know," Hermione said in a small voice.

"It's not like a I waited 'til last minute!"

"I know, if it was yesterday I might…but they asked me over a month ago. I'm really sorry."

"Who the bloody hell asks someone to a dance two months in advance?"

Hermione pursed her lips and flipped one of her books open without looking at it.

"You haven't taken up with Malfoy, have you?" Ron quipped in a desperate but failed attempt to sound humorous.

Hermione became instantly engrossed in her book.

"You're not serious?" Ron looked as stricken as Hermione had a moment ago. "I was joking," he added in a sort pleading tone.

Hermione continued staring very hard at the page she obviously not reading. Her hand still clutched the book tightly, and her mouth was working in a series of uncomfortable twitches.

"You are serious," Ron gasped in breathless disbelief.

Harry had been trying very hard to stay out of the conversation, but he could not help it. "_Malfoy_?"

Hermione looked up at him rather helplessly.

"Draco Malfoy?" Ron repeated, loudly enough to draw looks from some of the other students in the common room.

"Are you _insane_?" Harry demanded. If Hermione wanted to turn down Ron that was her own business, but this was really going too far. "Don't you remember who he is?"

"I remember," said Hermione, grimly regaining her composure.

"I don't think she does, Harry," Ron said, turning to him in a theatric way. "Perhaps we ought to remind her." He turned back to Hermione. "He's blonde chap in Slytherin about yea high. Slimy selfish git. Called you 'Mudblood' a few times. Tried to kill Harry a time or two. Father's a Death Eater, sound familiar?"

"Draco is not his father," Hermione said firmly.

"Oh, so he's _Draco_ now, is he?" Ron said in falsely airy voice.

"It's his name, Ron."

"Yeah, I caught that. Did you catch the bit earlier about how he tried to kill Harry last year?"

"So did you," Hermione retorted.

Harry thought that was a rather low blow, and so did Ron. He flushed. "That doesn't count! I was under the Imperius Curse."

Maybe Hermione realized she had gone too far. She faltered for a moment, before continuing in a controlled tone. "That's my point. Someone else was influencing you."

"It's hardly the same-!"

"No, it's not," Hermione conceded. "But you still fought it eventually."

"Malfoy wasn't under the Imperius Curse!"

Hermione gave Ron a look that said she thought he was being a bit thick. "Some very powerful influences have nothing to do with magic."

"So now you're asking Malfoy out to try your own influences on him?" Ron growled a bit too loudly. "It won't work, Hermione."

"He asked me," Hermione said through clenched teeth. "Not the other way around."

By this point, everyone in the common room was staring unabashedly. Harry was very much aware of their stares but did not dare intrude further on Ron and Hermione's row. He thought Ron had a point, but Ron's anger was more then sufficient for both of them.

"You could have said 'no' couldn't you?" Ron retorted. Hermione sighed. "Honestly! You get some kind of sick thrill out of dancing with the person you least ought to? You should have your head checked."

"There was nothing wrong with Viktor!" Hermione shot back.

"This isn't about Vicky," Ron finished the sentence in an over-sweet way.

"Sounds to me like you're still hung up on him," Hermione said matter-of-factly.

"I'm not the one writing him novels every month."

"Are you trying to tell me who I should be friends with?"

"Maybe I should, you seem to have trouble figuring it out!"

Hermione closed her eyes, clenched her fist, and took a few slow breaths. "Ron, I don't blame you for being angry. I really am sorry about the dance. But I made a promise."

"What is it with you?" Ron asked, sounding almost pleading. "I mean you seem like a smart girl. Krum's kinda dull, but at least he's human. But how can you like that arrogant bastard?"

"You know me better than that, and I never said I liked him."

"So you're going to the dance with a bloke you don't even like?"

"It's not about that. Ron, you don't understand."

"You're right," Ron growled. "I don't understand! Only thing that's clear is that you don't want to go with me." He snatched up his bag and stomped up the stairs to the boys' dorm.

Harry tried to speak in a rational tone. "Hermione, maybe you should-"

"Oh, just butt out, Harry," Hermione hissed.

Harry considered storming off after Ron, but he had left Hermione looking this miserable before and had been sorry for it later.

"Are you going to tell me there's nothing wrong with Malfoy!"

Hermione wiped her eyes. "Of course there's something wrong with him," she said in a more normal tone, a bit quieter than normal as she had become aware of the spectators. "But he's trying, Harry, and I think we need to encourage him."

"I understand that," said Harry, trying to be diplomatic. "But why do you have to be the one to do it?"

"Well, Ron's certainly not going to," Hermione said with a dry laugh. "I don't know, Harry. I don't why he singled me out or why it's so important to him. I only said 'yes' on conditions."

"Is that why he was wearing the S.E.E. badge?"

Hermione nodded. "It was a little terrifying at first to be honest."

"Why didn't you tell us?" asked Harry.

"It wasn't anything I couldn't handle on my own," said Hermione. "I didn't want Ron hexing him in the halls because he tried to talk to me in Astronomy. And I don't know…I guess it's a little flattering."

Harry's stomach twisted. "Hermione, you don't actually like Malfoy do you?"

Hermione gave Harry a sad smile. "You know if I just met him this year, I might. But he was cruel to me for very long time. I'm glad to see him change. I think I can forgive him, but it's not that easy to forget. All that stuff doesn't just go away."

Harry felt the knot in his stomach ease a bit. "Just be careful. If Malfoy gets out of hand, let us know. Ron'll beat him up."

Hermione sniffed and laughed. "Do you think he'll stay mad long?"

"Er…" _Yes_, was the first answer that came to Harry's mind, but it was not one he wanted to accept. "I'll talk to him. Do you really think Malfoy's changed?"

"I think he's trying to," said Hermione. "But changes like that don't happen over night. He still has a lot tying him to the Death Eaters. I think it would be very easy for him to slip back if we don't show him the benefits of being on the right side."

"What sort of benefits?" Harry eyed Hermione suspiciously.

She flushed slightly. "Honestly, Harry! Draco's been told very clearly that the dance is just a dance and nothing more. I mean we need to bring him into the D.A. He's feeling very isolated right now, and we need to show him he's not alone. It might be a good idea to talk to Dumbledore about drafting him into the Order after term is over, so he'll have a place to go."

"There won't be a need for the Order after term's over," said Harry with far more confidence than he felt. "But yeah, we'll bring Malfoy into the D.A."

o

* * *

o

Friday morning, Hedwig delivered a letter from Tonks saying that her band would be thrilled to play at Harry's Leaving Dance, which was one less thing on his mind. Padma looked as though she might cry with relief when he told her. Hermione emerged from her Arithmancy text, which was settled between her eggs and her orange juice, to ask what sort of music they played. Harry had to confess he did not know.

Ron was sitting with them, but he was not talking very much. He did not look at Hermione anymore than he had to. Hermione seemed to have decided it was best to give him time to cool off.

Harry knew Ron was not the only one who would have an adverse reaction to Malfoy joining the D.A. Harry asked Persephone to bring him late, so he could have time to prepare everyone.

After the Dumbledore's Army had gathered that night, Harry learned Malfoy was not the only thing the members were uncertain about. Naturally people were confused and worried by what had happened to Snape. Some people voiced theories similar to Harry's about Death Eater involvement. "Dumbledore assures me that this was not the work of Death Eaters," Harry told them.

"I was sort of hoping it was," said one of the fifth years. "It would have been some sign of activity. Not that I want them to attack the school, but how do you fight an enemy that never comes out of hiding?"

"They'll come out of hiding soon enough," said Harry. "We just can't let ourselves grow lax."

"We can't keep ourselves wound up all the time either," said Padma.

"Maybe Persephone was wrong? Maybe there isn't going to be an attack."

"There's going to be an attack," Harry said firmly. He wished he could explain how he knew that, but as adamant as Persephone was about Divination being a crock, he did not think it would go over too well. "Anyway, about Malfoy. We all know his family's history, so I don't want to hear any cracks about it. He's taking a risk to join us, so I want everyone to make him feel welcome. Got it? Just so no one's shocked. He _did_ run into a Death Eater in Hogsmeade last weekend. Hermione was able to eavesdrop from under the invisibility cloak, so I know what was said. But I want Malfoy to have a chance to tell us himself."

The fifth year who had spoken before actually looked heartened, but other people shuddered. Hermione gave Harry a tight smile. Ron kept his expression blank, but Harry was grateful that he was managing to keep his opinions of Malfoy to himself.

"Harry," Padma called, crooking her finger to indicate she wanted him to come close enough for her to say something quietly. She spoke in a whisper. Her forehead was lined with concern. "Didn't you say Malfoy tried to kill you last year?"

"Yeah," Harry admitted at the same volume. "But that was last year."

Enough individual conversations had sprung up that Harry missed the sound of the door opening. He caught the shift as people turned their heads and turned to see that Malfoy and Persephone had entered the room. Harry straightened up. He had a sort of ritual planned out.

He crossed the room. Malfoy took the hint and came to meet him in the middle. Harry held out his hand. "I'm glad you came," he said in a clear voice. Everyone had quieted down to watch.

Malfoy looked down at Harry's hand, and Harry could tell that he remembered. Draco extended his own hand to take Harry's and shook it. "I'm here to help."

Harry gave Malfoy a tight smile. _Let's hope._

"And um, I'm sorry about the thing with the bludger," Malfoy mumbled just loud enough for Harry to hear. Harry thought it was a rather lame apology, but it _was_ an apology. It was certainly time to move on.

"Why don't you have a seat," said Harry, indicating an empty spot at one of the long tables, and Malfoy sat down. Harry thought it was particularly bizarre to see Malfoy follow his instructions. "We're discussing Voldemort's attack. Or I should say the possibility of an attack on the school."

Persephone sat down on one side of Malfoy, and Hermione brought the D.A.'s contract over for Malfoy to sign. Harry wanted Ron at least to see that he was not too quick to trust Malfoy, so he waited for Malfoy to sign before continuing. And waited. Malfoy was taking his time looking over the parchment.

"I am allowed to read it first, aren't I?" asked Draco when he caught Harry's impatient stare.

Harry bit back a sigh. Students shifted nervously, perhaps trying to remember how thoroughly they themselves had read the contract. Harry hoped Draco did not plan to be difficult, but Malfoy stopped stalling and signed the parchment. The collective relief in the room was palpable. Harry decided to get right to it. "Could you tell the others what the Death Eater said to you?"

Because he was nervous or simply used to directing his attention to whoever was in charge, Malfoy fixed his eyes on Harry, but he spoke clearly enough for everyone to hear. "He just said that when the time comes I would have to stand with them or die with the others. I asked him what that meant, and he said it would be obvious."

Harry knew Malfoy was editing out a fair bit, but he had at least boiled it down to the most relevant points. "That's it?"

"That's it."

"That could mean anything," said Ernie Macmillan in a disappointed tone.

"But it supports our theory," said Harry stubbornly.

"Potter, why don't you just admit he might not be coming?" Zacharias Smith asked.

Harry banged his fist against his palm. "I know he's coming. It's just a question of _when_."

"The dance."

Persephone had spoken so softly that Harry barely heard her. She shrunk back against the table when he turned to look at her.

"Did you get another flash?" Malfoy prompted her gently.

"No, not exactly," said Persephone, still looking as though she would rather disappear. "But it makes a certain amount of sense, doesn't it? Everyone will be distracted." Her voice grew stronger as she continued. "And a lot of students don't take their wands to formals."

Harry had a little trouble believing that. "I took my wand with me to the Yule Ball," he said.

"I didn't," admitted Parvati. "It stuck out in my dress robes."

Malfoy's eyes lit up with understanding. "The dress robes. My mother sent me dress robes with protections woven in for Christmas." He gave Harry a significant look and Harry nodded to say he had made the connection.

Malfoy's parents would know after all. _She's been never wrong_. Harry felt his pulse quicken. This was excellent. Not only did they know what Voldemort's plan was. They knew when he was planning to strike. But what to do about it?

The plans were already beginning to form in Harry's head, and they had a whole month to prepare. He was nearly giddy.

The other students were far from giddy. "We're not going to cancel the dance again are we?" asked Annie Howard.

"No," said Harry. "We're going to set a trap for him."

"Harry!" Hermione shrieked.

"Why not?" said Harry, looking around at the startled faces of the D.A. "Even if we cancel the dance, the Death Eaters may try to attack anyway. The less they realize we're prepared for them the better. We are Dumbledore's Army. This is our home, our school, we have to defend it."

Support for the plan came from where Harry would have least expected it. "Potter's right," Malfoy said loudly. "We're going to have much better chance if we fight them on our own terms."

"We?" exclaimed Neville, giving Draco a flabbergasted look. "Malfoy, you've been in the D.A. for ten minutes!"

Malfoy leapt to his feet. "And it only took me ten minutes to see that Potter is on track!" He shot a piercing stare at various members of the D.A. as though rebuking them for their lack of faith. "We better have a plan because you can bet sure as hell the Death Eaters are going to have one. And they're going to come in ready to kill. You can't expect to negotiate. You can't expect mercy. If you want to survive, you're going to have to fight! Better here. Better together, than to let them pick us off one by one after school ends."

Harry had never had the impulse to hug Malfoy before. Thankfully, it passed quickly, but he decided it was best to ride the momentum. "Exactly. We've already been drilling for what to do in case the Death Eaters attack. This is just a more elaborate version. We've got nearly a month to plan. We can really do this properly. There won't be any classes, so it will be easier to manage everyone."

"Harry," Hermione spoke up. Malfoy had sat back down beside her and was listening attentively. "What are we going to tell Dumbledore?"

Harry had to think that over. The Headmaster had shown Harry more trust than he did in the past, but he did not know if Dumbledore would trust his judgment quite that far. "Nothing. We can't involve Dumbledore or any of the teachers. They'll be more worried about protecting us than helping us fight."

Hermione gaped at him, and she was not the only one. "You want to do this without the teachers?"

"The teachers will be there," said Harry. "It's unlikely they'll be wandering around the castle without their wands. I've already warned Dumbledore that we think it's possible the Death Eaters might attack. They'll be on guard. And Tonks will be there. We can find ways to summon the Aurors once the attack begins, but I want Voldemort to be committed. He won't be able to Apparate away once he's on the grounds."

"Neither will we!" Anthony Goldstein pointed out. "I'm not so sure about this, Potter."

Harry glared around the room. "Okay, fine. Anyone who doesn't want to be in the battle can either go home or stay in their dormitories and hope the Death Eaters don't get that far."

"I'm not afraid!" shouted Ginny.

"Neither am I!" said Ron. "I'll stand by Harry."

"I'll fight," said Virginia Dey.

"No, you won't," said Harry, pointing his finger at her warningly. "At least not at first. I want everyone who wouldn't normally be at the dance to stick to their common rooms that night. No one under fifth year has any business going up against a Death Eater. I've done it. I know."

This drew a bit of an outcry from some of the third and fourth years. "We can fight! What about the dueling club?"

"I don't doubt that," said Harry. "But we're going to need a reserve. We need someone to protect the younger students who aren't ready. If the Death Eaters make it as far as the common rooms, you will have to fight. So I still want you to train and be ready for it." This did not completely satisfy all of them, but Harry had a month to work on them.

"We're going to need a way coordinate everyone," said Padma.

"Harry, what about the mirror Sirius gave you!" said Hermione. Harry looked at her curiously. "What if we could link more than two of them together? Like magical walkie-talkies."

"Could we do that?"

"I'm sure we could," said Hermione. "It's probably a variation on the Protean Charm. I'd have to see the mirror again, maybe do a little research in the library."

"You want help?" asked Draco.

"Malfoy, I've got another job for you," said Harry. "Prefects are going to be acting like officers, and you're the only one we have representing Slytherin at the moment. We need to bring in as many sixth and seventh year students as possible, particularly prefects. But carefully. Word of this can not leave the school, and it can't reach the teachers."

Malfoy nodded, the gears visibly turning in his head. Harry started working his way around the room, making sure everyone was assigned to developing one part of the plan or another. He sent Lavender Brown off to fetch her crystal ball and sat down to have a talk with Malfoy.

"Hermione told me you figured out who was spying on you."

"I did," said Malfoy.

"Who was it?"

Malfoy hesitated. "I'd rather not say. I can make sure they don't find out anything important."

"Draco," said Hermione in a warning tone. Ron took the seat next to Harry.

"Fine, it was Pansy," Draco hissed. "I don't think she's actively spying so much as she's was writing home to her mother about me, and her mother told my mother, etcetera."

Persephone nudged Draco. "Told you!"

Draco shot her a look. "Anyway, I wouldn't put it past her to do a bit of active spying if she thought something was up. I think it's best to keep her out of the loop."

"I'm going to have to trust your judgment," said Harry. "But bring in as many as you can. It's going to be hard enough fighting Death Eaters without fighting other students as well."

"I'll do what I can," said Draco. "Persephone, you can start talking to the sixth years."

Harry almost laughed. _Start?_ Apparently Persephone did not tell Malfoy everything after all.

"Some of them have joined already," she said. "Not everyone came to the meeting today." This had been on Ron's suggestion. No point putting Blaise and Millicent in danger if Malfoy proved unwilling to sign the contract.

"Hey, Harry, I've got it," said Lavender Brown as she approached them.

"Excellent," said Harry. "Come on, Persephone."

Persephone eyed the crystal ball in Lavender's hand apprehensively. "Harry, no!" she whined.

"I want details." Harry stood back up. "Come on."

Persephone gripped Draco's arm, as though he might rescue her. "Go on," Malfoy told her gently. "It can't hurt to look."

Persephone made a very pitiful face that almost made Harry sorry to put her through this, but if she was accurate, he needed to know. Lavender escorted Persephone over to a small table in the corner of the room and set the crystal ball upon it. "What's the point, Harry?" Persephone whined. "I told you it's all just guesswork. I could be telling you all wrong."

Harry put his hand on Persephone's shoulders and pressed her down into the chair. "Just focus on the dance and tell me what you see," Harry told her gently but firmly. "Maybe it's not what will be, but even if you can tell me what might be, that will help me plan for contingencies."

"I can't."

"Yes, you can. You're a good guesser. You made excellent marks in Divination. Now look."

Lavender watched them debate. She had always been a big believer in Divination, but she had also heard Harry poke fun at Trelawny quite a bit over the years. He wondered what she thought about his renewed interest. If she was jealous that Harry had not asked her to look, she did not show it.

Persephone frowned intently at the crystal ball, but after a few minutes her expression relaxed. She started speaking about windows shattering and black robed wizards in skull mask. Harry summoned a quill and parchment and got Lavender to take notes.

He was a little irritated when Luna interrupted them. "Harry, I had an idea."

"If it involves Blibbering Humdingers, I don't want to hear it."

Luna paused for a moment, as though trying to decide whether it was worth explaining Humdingers to Harry. "Actually, it has to do with dementors. Persephone said they were constructs. I was thinking maybe if we could see that book which says how they're constructed, we could figure out how to deconstruct them."

Harry had to admit that was an intriguing idea. "I wonder where that book is."

"Severus has is," Persephone said in a distracted voice. "I can ask for it back."

"Okay, maybe we can get Blaise to help. He seems to like theory."

Luna smiled and drifted off again, but Dean replaced her. "Hey, Harry, we were wondering if maybe we ought to come up with some new code names for Voldemort and the Death Eaters, to keep the teachers from catching on."

Harry's lip quirked. "Uncle Tom," he said.

"Brilliant," said Dean. "Gives me an idea for the rest of them."

"Good, I'll let you work it out," said Harry.

Dean had started to turn away, when Persephone's hand shot out and grabbed his. "You should go home."

"What?" Dean looked a bit affronted.

"You should go home," Persephone repeated. "You shouldn't stay for the dance." She released Dean and scowled at the crystal ball.

Dean gawked at her. Lavender gave him a worried look. "Come on," Harry said, leading him back towards Seamus. There was a horrible twisting in Harry's stomach now. He was used to hearing predictions of his own death, but it was starting to dawn on him exactly how much danger he was putting the other students in. Once there was enough distance that he did not think Persephone could over hear them, Harry stopped. "Hey, Dean…maybe you should go home."

Dean gave Harry an odd look. "I'm not afraid, mate," he said. "I want to fight."

Visions of Dean getting grievously injured were filing through Harry's mind. "Dean, you don't understand," Harry said in a low, imploring voice. "She's never wrong. If she told you to go home, there's probably a reason."

Dean gave Harry a wry smile. "Harry, you know I think the whole divination thing is a crock. But let's say, I do go home. That'll change whatever future she's looking at, won't it? Besides, anyone who goes into this thing not thinking they could die is daft. We're all taking that risk. What if I go home, but someone else dies because of it? No doing." He patted Harry's shoulder reassuringly. "I'm in this no matter what. We'll take them down. Don't worry."

o

* * *

o

But Harry did worry. His whole brilliant plan was starting to seem extremely foolhardy. What if he got Dean killed? Or Ron or Hermione or any of them? What if he got everyone killed? What if Persephone's dream came true, and he died? Did that mean there would be no one to stop Voldemort or did that simply free up the next possibility?

But what else could he do? Wait, hide, and hope that the blood connection he had with Voldemort did not weaken him past the point of defending himself? Harry needed to talk to Dumbledore. He was still not sure if he should tell him about what the D.A. was up to, but he needed advice.

He excused himself after the meeting and wandered to the Headmaster's office. "Come in," Dumbledore called, when Harry knocked.

Dumbledore stood by Fawkes's perch stroking the phoenix's brilliantly colored feathers. "A man is not like a phoenix," he said. Harry was not sure if Dumbledore was talking to him or himself. "We are meant to move on when our time is over."

"I didn't," said Harry. "I was supposed to die, and I didn't."

A twinkle entered Dumbledore's tired eyes. "Well, you have been known to break the rules now and again."

Harry felt his mouth twitch. "Maybe I just never learned them properly."

"Perhaps," said Dumbledore, his own lip twitching. "I think in your case, Harry, it more a matter of being ruled by the spirit of the law, rather than the letter of it. Perhaps by the mechanisms of the clockwork that keeps order in the universe, you should have died when Voldemort tried to kill you that first time. You were defenseless, and he a very powerful wizard. But, we are more than clockwork machines of flesh and bone. We are creatures of spirit. And it was the spirit that keeps the universe in order that decided to ignore that little rule for a higher law and keep you around, for some purpose I imagine."

Harry felt the tension in his chest ease. "To defeat Voldemort?" he asked hopefully.

"Very likely, though that may not be the limit of it," Dumbledore said kindly. "If it was meant to be the other way around, the universe has wasted a great deal of effort keeping you alive all these years. You haven't always made that easy."

Harry laughed, his nerves breaking to send an odd sort of shiver through his body before settling into something easy and calm.

"Is there something troubling you, Harry?" asked Dumbledore.

"I was wondering…" Harry began, unsure how to word the question. "How do you let other people risk their lives? I'm not asking in a critical way. I mean as leader of the Order. You can't do everything. You have to let others fight. But you decide when they're allowed to go. I mean you're in charge of the overall plan, and sometimes that involves asking people to take risks. How do you decide when it's acceptable to let them risk themselves? How do you let them go when you can't be there to protect them? I'm not saying you shouldn't. I just want to understand how. Doesn't weigh on you? Do you ever feel like—like it's too much to bear?" Harry felt like he was making a mess of the question.

But Dumbledore seemed to understand. "Often," he said.

Harry studied the Headmaster. "Then how do you?"

"At some point, I have to accept that everyone who joins the Order of the Phoenix and chooses to serve with me against Voldemort has made the choice to risk their lives. The most terrible thing I could do to them is to try to take that choice away. That was my crime against Sirius, and it still weighs heavily on me. I have to accept that my job as leader is to see that their risk is applied in the best way possible to bring about the end to which we have devoted ourselves." Dumbledore brought up his hand to rub his forehead as though warding off a headache. "And then there are times when they take that choice away from me. Knowing my own faults, I should be more forgiving."

Harry felt his brow furrow. "Is there something troubling _you_, Headmaster?"

"I'm getting old, Harry," Dumbledore said heavily. "Despite my best efforts I have forgotten what it is to be young. Mercifully, I have not forgotten how to love, but I have forgotten something about being in love. I have forgotten the sort of recklessness it can inspire."

He was confused at first, but after a moment's thought, Harry believed he knew what Dumbledore was talking about. "Are you angry with Professor Snape?" he asked.

"Extremely, but it would be very unfair of me to vent that anger on the confused boy he left behind." Dumbledore settled into the chair behind his desk and stared at the fireplace. "I know you never cared for Professor Snape, Harry, but to me he was a friend, a protégé, and an ally. It is never easy to understand when one's friends choose to destroy themselves, and it is never easy to accept."

Harry did not say anything but settled into the chair on his side of the desk. Dumbledore drew himself up and turned his pale blue eyes on Harry once again. "Beyond my personal loss, he has left me in a very awkward position. I am now tasked with finding a new Potions Master as well as a new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher. I have over extended myself. I fear worse than anything I have forgotten my own limitations."

"You've been an excellent teacher, Professor," Harry said in what he hoped was a heartening voice. "I was really glad to have you this year, but you need to take care of yourself as well.

Dumbledore gave Harry a small, grateful smile. "Would you like to know what Professor Snape did that made me trust his wish to leave Voldemort's service was genuine?"

Harry tried not to appear too eager. That particular mystery had bothered him for years. "What did he do, sir?"

"He cried."

"He-he what?"

"He cried, sobbed like an infant. That's how I knew his repentance was sincere."

"Because he cried?" Harry repeated, not thinking this sounded like a very good reason at all. "But how could you know he wasn't faking?"

"Because I know Severus Snape," said Dumbledore. "He and your father were probably in my office more than any two students I've ever had. I know the hells he went through. I know how proud he is, and I know how broken he would have to be to cry in front of another man, particularly one that he respected and whose respect he wished to gain."

"But he lied to Voldemort," said Harry. "He must have some acting skills to pull that off, even with the Occlumency."

"The ability to cry on cue would not have done much to impress the Lord Voldemort. He is more likely to be swayed by a show of strength or loyalty. Pity is something alien to him."

"Which is why we have to stop him," said Harry.

"Yes, that is why," said Dumbledore.

o

* * *

o

Malfoy wasted no time. Only a couple of days after his first meeting, he joined Harry, Ron, and Hermione under the shade of a large elm on the grounds. They had been taking advantage of the good weather to practice Charms. Malfoy sat down beside Hermione, half-curling around her by propping himself up with a palm placed on the ground behind her back. "What?" he asked innocently, catching the look on their faces. "Are my lips still puffy?" He brought his other hand up to check his lips.

"Wh—" Hermione looked as though she did not really want to ask but could not help herself. "Why would your mouth be puffy?"

"I just got back from the hospital wing," Malfoy told them as though he thought this might be of great interest to them. "Had a run in with a nasty bludger. Nearly knocked my teeth out." He let a look of concern cross his pale features. "I've got every faith in Madam Pomfrey, but I haven't checked a mirror yet. Does it look all right?" He gave Hermione a wincing smile that showed his perfectly straight teeth.

Hermione, who Harry belatedly remembered was the daughter of two dentists, hesitated but seemed drawn by medical curiosity. "They—um—they look fine," she said after a brief examination. Malfoy beamed a wide, bright smile at her that reminded Harry unpleasantly of Lockhart. Hermione pulled back and squinted her eyes at Draco. "Are you sure that bludger only hit your mouth? No other head injuries?" She reached up and flipped some of his blonde hair out of place as though checking for bruises. Malfoy's smile became less toothy and rather fixed.

Ron was staring at Malfoy and Hermione with a rather dead expression, as though Malfoy's arrival was a clear portent of the end times. The last thing Harry wanted was another row after Ron and Hermione had started acting normal again. "Malfoy, are you sure it's such a good idea for you to be seen openly with us?" he asked, hoping Malfoy would take the hint.

"Don't see why not," said Malfoy with a shrug. "I told the Death Eater I was trying to get in your good graces. Actually being seen with you backs up the story. Gives Pansy something to write home about. Besides, I've got good news."

"You already told us about the bludger."

Hermione shot Harry a disapproving look. Malfoy briefly flickered his eyes over to Ron. His smile went through a few variations, before he decided to be cheerful again. "We're getting along now, so I'll take that to mean how happy you are that I wasn't grievously injured."

Harry decided Ron was glowering darkly enough for both of them, so he chose to take the high road that Draco had offered. "Yes, that's what I meant. What's your other good news?"

"I have seven new members for the D.A.," Malfoy said quietly.

Hermione blinked. "Seven?"

"All the seventh year Slytherins except for Pansy and Daphne," Draco boasted. "We had a meeting. Apparently, I have fantastic powers of persuasion."

Harry gave Draco a wry look. "You do know Blaise and Millicent are already members?"

Malfoy deflated slightly. "Oh…I guess that explains…" He looked a bit annoyed. "Did seem a bit easier to convince everyone than I thought it would be. Blaise…" Malfoy scowled, then brightened. "Still, five new members, and Persephone and I'll get to work on the prefects next."

As grating as it was to give Malfoy praise, Harry knew he should. Better than leaving it to Hermione. "Good job," he said, and Malfoy beamed. "Bring them by the Room of Requirement on Tuesday, and we'll get them enrolled properly."

"Why not tomorrow?"

"Quidditch practice," said Ron.

"That's right. Last game is Slytherin verses Gryffindor," Malfoy said glumly.

"Should be a good game," Hermione said diplomatically. "They're both strong teams this year."

Malfoy made a noncommittal sound. Harry was a little surprised, given Draco's usual fondness for psychological warfare. He did not think this was Malfoy's attempt at diplomacy either. Draco simply looked depressed. "Don't worry," Harry said to cheer him up. "The truce doesn't extend to the Quidditch field. We still plan to pulverize you."

Draco managed a strained smile. "You wish," he said, though with only a shadow of his usual conviction. Harry would almost rather Draco taunt him. Watching Malfoy mope was dead depressing.

"Boys," Hermione muttered.

o

* * *

o

Ginny had yelled at Harry during their Monday Quidditch practice, because he had been distracted with plans for the meeting. The other Slytherins were not nearly so bleak about their prospects. Chesann was a minor celebrity these days. Harry made sure that she and anyone else they had recruited from Slytherin was present to welcome the new members. He thought there was a fair chance that Hermione was right about it being easy for Malfoy to backslide if not properly encouraged and had a feeling that would apply to the other Slytherins as well. Making the meeting interesting for Crabbe and Goyle would probably mean a lot of practical spell work, which was not the worst idea in a general sense. Harry needed to make sure that everyone in his army could cast a decent stunning spell.

Malfoy agreed to bring the other Slytherins late to the meeting, as both he and Harry thought it would make a better impression to bring them to a room full of people. As though determined to match his initial boast, Draco also brought both the fifth year Slytherin prefects with him to the Tuesday meeting. The seven new recruits, along with Millicent and Blaise, followed Malfoy into the Room of Requirement. They crowded by the door, facing the two columns of students.

Indigo Stump looked about with wide, almost fearful eyes and clung to Blaise's sleeve. Crabbe and Goyle had their eyes narrowed as though expecting someone to attack them or challenge their right to be there.

"Welcome to the D.A.," said Harry in a clear, loud voice from the far end of the room. He beckoned them forward, and Malfoy lead them down the center aisle. Some the D.A. was making an effort and giving them friendly smile, but a fair number of members looked just as nervous as the Slytherins themselves. Nott smiled broadly at a blonde sixth year Slytherin girl who looked back at him with an apologetic shrug.

Malfoy paused and turned to face the Slytherins, backing the last few steps to stand next to Harry. "Before you become full D.A. members we have to ask you to sign a contract saying that you will not divulge any of the D.A.'s secrets to nonmembers," Harry told them, indicating a podium they had acquired to display the contract as formally as possible.

Crabbe shot Draco an annoyed look. "I signed," said Draco, pointing to his own signature on the parchment. "So did everyone else here." He took the quill from the podium stand and held it out towards the Slytherins. "It doesn't hurt. Who's first?"

Indigo swallowed and stepped forward to take the quill from Malfoy. She signed her name, gave Harry a nervous smile, and held the quill out to Alice Wenlock, who edged forward and added her own name to the list. The Slytherins signed one after another. Crabbe took the quill last and stared at the contract nearly as long as Malfoy had before adding his own name. When he stepped back, the rest of the D.A. broke out into applause. The blonde sixth year ran forward to throw her arms around Nott. "I'm sorry I couldn't tell you."

Harry sensed Crabbe might be their weak link and extended his hand to the thick Slytherin. "We're very glad to have you," he said. Crabbe shook his hand uncertainly. Harry smiled at him. He waited a minute while things settled, then blew his whistle. "Everyone pair up. We're going to practice stunning spells. Find your partner and spread out. Do not begin until I give the signal."

Harry noticed that the Slytherins were pairing with each other. He considered breaking this up but decided it might be best to ease them into things. To his dismay, Malfoy had decided to be a counter example, and he and Hermione were moving towards an empty spot.

_Stop_, Harry told himself. How could he expect Malfoy to become comfortable with Muggle-borns if he glared at him every time he came within three feet of Hermione? It was good that he wanted to be friendly. Harry might not like _how_ friendly Malfoy wanted to be, but as much as he hated to admit it, Hermione was the one who had to set the boundaries. It did not matter if the thought of them together made him stomach churn over. He had more important things to focus on right now. He had to let go of this.

He and Ron paced around the room, making sure all the pairs were appropriately spaced and cushions placed safely behind them. Ron was pretending not to notice Malfoy, focusing his attention on the younger members. Harry forced a nervous looking sixth year to pair up with Victoria.

He blew his whistle again. He and Ron demonstrated the spell. Harry revived Ron and told the rest of the D.A. to have a go on his signal. It was organized chaos. Students were knocked back left and right and poorly aimed spells were bouncing off the ceiling. In general it was an improvement to the first time Harry had taught the D.A. to stun, but the sheer number of students he was dealing with was beginning to boggle him.

Before he could truly wrap his mind around it, the startled yelp of several students caught his attention. Now that all the red flashes of light around the room had died off, the gold light emitting from the corner was noticeably bright. Harry jumped over the body of a stunned fourth year as he hurried to join the crowd gathering around Draco and Hermione. They stood, wands pointed at each other, a gold beam connecting the tips. The beam sparked and splintered sending out a cage of golden light, causing the crowd to jump back. Harry doubted anyone in the room had ever seen anything quite like it. Hermione looked far more stunned than worried, which made him think she had it figured out. Malfoy looked stunned, nervous, and curious. Several other people looked frightened, so Harry decided he needed to explain before anyone panicked.

"It's all right!" he shouted in a loud, calm voice. "I've seen this before. You can break the connection, Malfoy. _Hermione_." He suspected she was letting things play out from curiosity.

Hermione twitched her wand and ducked down. Malfoy copied her, but they had been overly cautious. The lights dissipated harmlessly. "What was that?" someone from the crowd asked faintly.

"_Priori Incantatem_," Harry told them, taking a few steps forward to stand in the middle of the circle of students. "That's what happened when Voldemort and I faced each other in the graveyard."

"But why did it happen?" Malfoy asked. He was standing straight again.

"Brother wands," Hermione explained. "Your wand core must be a dragon heart string. From the same dragon as mine."

"Just like the same phoenix gave the feathers in both my wand and Voldemort's," Harry said. Some of the new members gasped. "Two brother wands won't work properly against each other. When forced to duel they create something known as _Priori Incantatem_ or the Reverse Spell effect. If we had allowed it to continue, one wand would have forced the other to regurgitate spells. It's very rare, but not impossible that you might encounter it. Did you see how the light had begun to bead? If you concentrate, you can force those beads to touch the tip of your opponent's wand. It will cause their wand to regurgitate…at least that's what happened with me." Harry was not sure what else he could say on the matter, so he motioned for the crowd to breakup. "It's far more likely you're going to run into stunning. So go _evennerate_ you're partners and lets practice some more." The crowd broke up, murmuring. Harry turned to Draco and Hermione who had edged closer. "It might be better if you walked around and helped the others."

They nodded. Malfoy was grinning now. "You know what this means, don't you?" he asked, closing the distance between him and Hermione.

Hermione grinned coolly back at him. "That you're my arch nemesis?" she suggested lightly.

Draco laughed. "Well, there's some deeper connection."

"So you're my long lost brother?" Hermione quipped.

"I certainly hope not."

Harry turned his back and wished he could not hear them. _Let it go. Let it go, _he told himself. What did it really matter to him if Draco wanted to flirt or Hermione wanted to smile at him? If she wanted to date Malfoy, that was her business. Harry had no right taking that choice from her. He was her friend, not her boyfriend. Besides if he died, Malfoy could be a lot of help keeping things together. So much the better for him to have a vested interest, even if it did make Harry want to sick up. He took a deep breath, let it out slowly, and closed off that part of his mind. _Let it go. Let go._

Harry wandered through the room, paying particular attention to the Slytherins. Wenlock was fairly hopeless, but Crabbe was a surprisingly good shot. After a few pointers Stump managed to keep her hand steady and sent Blaise flying back on the cushions. She immediately ran over to check on him and started gushing apologies. It was wreaking havoc on Harry's ruthless Slytherin image.

Harry was feeling more and more peaceful about the upcoming battle. The students would not be taken down easily. His biggest worry now was keeping the whole thing from the teachers. Malfoy had recruited some of the sixth years to distract Pansy during this particular meeting, but it was not going to be long before the teachers caught on if half the student body went missing two or three times a week. Harry discussed the matter with the prefects, and at length they agreed that D.A. would have to be broken into smaller groups.

The most natural way to divide everyone was by their houses. "We'll have to take turns keeping Pansy distracted," said Draco, but his eyes were already alight with plots for doing so. It was strange, but a bit of relief to hand responsibility for the Slytherins over to him. Ernie and Padma were both eager to organize their own houses. Harry would still pop in on all of them as much as he could. There would still be small inter-house committees addressing one part of the plan or another.

The Room of Requirement was rarely empty from that moment on. There was a constant rotation of students training or researching. Harry tried to manage it all, so they were not stepping on each other. Persephone managed to get her book back from Snape, and Luna and Blaise headed up the research committee on dementors. The Forum continued to be a recruitment ground.

Harry made the seventh year prefects his inner circle. Persephone filled in for Pansy's absence during their strategy sessions. To Harry's relief Malfoy took the strategy meetings pretty seriously and held off flirting with Hermione during them. Hermione had expanded her role of editing Victoria's reports and put herself in charge of information control. She seemed to think it best if most of the students did not know the entirety of their plan. "I'm hoping we don't have any leaks, but if we do, I'd rather not give Voldemort everything."

"I know everyone's thinking it, but we're all reluctant to bring it up," said Draco. "But should we consider giving the older students a crash course in the Unforgivable Curses?"

"No Unforgivables," said Harry flatly. "There'll be a lot of confusion. We're as likely to hit each other as a Death Eater with the killing curse. I won't risk it. And there's no point in causing pain. It's our job to capture them, not punish. That's the Ministry's responsibility."

Draco nodded. "Fair enough. But what about the Imperius? Just because it _can _be used to dark purposes doesn't mean we can't use it to make them just shut up and sit down."

"No Unforgivables," Harry repeated firmly and braced himself for an argument.

Draco however just shrugged. "You're the boss." Harry blinked at him. "What about some of the lesser dark magic spells? Victoria knows some nasty ones. A bit borderline on the legality, but some of them may be effective enough to be worth it."

Harry's first impulse was to flat out refuse to use anything resembling dark magic, but something in Draco's tone gave him pause. Malfoy was not advocating anything. He was simply ticking off options. "I'd have to review them on a spell by spell basis," Harry said at length.

Persephone gave him a grim smile. "Harry, I don't know about those spells specifically, but I think it's really important that we agree it's better not to fight fair."

"That would be the Slytherin department," Ron muttered.

Persephone scowled at him. "It's not about being Slytherin. It's about being practical. This is a war. I don't want to kill anyone either but trying to fight fair is going to get us killed. The Death Eaters are certain to be using dark magic. It may be the right thing to do, but we're giving ourselves a bit of a handicap if we're not willing to fling it back at them."

"That doesn't mean we should sink to their level," said Padma resolutely.

"No, we shouldn't," agreed Harry. "But Persephone has a point. Not just about the dark magic. We'd best assume Death Eaters are going to be more experienced than us. And we all know some of the members in our army struggle more than others. I don't want anyone trying to take them on alone. We need to fight them in groups. No one is to engage a Death Eater unless they have at least three other students with them. Student who find themselves in groups of three or less, need to put all the energy into retreating to the fall back points. I don't want anyone to try to stand alone."

"That goes for you too, Harry," said Persephone, fixing him with a Hermione-like glare.

Harry bit back a sigh. "I'm a bit of a special case. I _have_ to draw Voldemort away. If there are other students around, he'll use them against me." Malfoy was making a face. "What?"

"That's very noble and all, Potter, but one, the point of this army is that we're working together to bring him down. You ought to have backup. And two, let's say that Voldemort believes the rumor that you're the one with the power to destroy him, why would he _let_ you take him off somewhere alone?"

"It's never stopped him before," said Hermione.

Harry frowned with concentration. It was getting less annoying when Malfoy made a good point, and this one was worth thinking over. Voldemort had been more reluctant to attack him, since he was unable to get his hands on the prophecy. Yes, killing Harry was still probably a big priority for him, but how could Harry make sure that Voldemort personally would be focused on him above all else?

It came to him. He fixed his eyes on Malfoy and felt a malicious smile spread over his face. Draco actually looked unnerved. "What?"

"You're about to become the Dark Lord's favorite person."

Draco looked stunned and perplexed, and he was not the only one.

Harry was feeling that giddy rush again. "You're going to give Voldemort the one thing he wants most…the second half of the prophecy."

"Harry, no!"

Harry fixed his eyes on Hermione's alarmed face. "Why not? He needs to think he has a chance at killing me, or he'll never come after me. I can't keep hiding from him forever. This is going to be my best shot. I just need the rest of you to keep the Death Eaters occupied."

"What does the prophecy say?" asked Draco. Harry told him. Draco gave him a somewhat awed look. "You're mad, Potter. Between that and what Blaise worked out, he'll knock the castle down to get to you."

The grim grin spread back across Harry's face. "I'm counting on it."

o

* * *

o

Madam Pomfrey developed a new following. Neville talked her into demonstrating basic healing magic to the students. The Hufflepuffs in particular took an interest, but Neville made sure several students from each house gained some competency. Harry had thought Persephone would be interested, but she was skiddish about healing magic. "It's just my magic can be a bit…unpredictable, particularly when I'm nervous," she said curling her fingers through her silver hair. "That's why I like theory so much. I'm less likely to hurt someone."

"Luna said a Silver Child was supposed to be rather gifted," said Harry.

"Load of rubbish," Persephone grumbled. "Stupid magazine article. I'm pretty decent at some things. My transfiguration work is all right, when I can focus on it, but I'm very hit or miss in Charms. I'm pretty pathetic in everything this year."

"I'm sure there's something you're good at," he encouraged her. "You just have to play to your strengths."

"Oh, I am really good at the _Tayloris_ spell!" she said happily. "I've been making a little pocket money adjusting some of the other girls dress robes for them. Do yours still fit all right?"

Harry had had too much on his mind to worry about his dress robes. He had not tried them on since he bought them two summers ago. "Dunno," he admitted.

Persephone insisted that he run up and check while she waited by the common room entrance, and Harry did so to humor her. His dress robes were a little on the short side, so he brought them back down. His aunt dragged him to an empty classroom and made him put his dress robes back on. When he was done, she inspected them and tapped her wand against her chin. After a moment's consideration, she pointed her wand at Harry and said, "_Tayloris._" A golden glow circled his robes, and they lengthened a bit. He rolled his shoulders. The fabric was less tight and fitted him better. "Thanks," he said. Persephone beamed. He chased her out of the classroom, so he could change back.

She greeted him with one of her big hugs when he came out. Harry was getting a bit more used to those and hugged her back. It was nice to see her happy. She had become very serious with all the battle preparations, and it did not suit her. "Do you still visit Myrtle?" he asked her.

"Oh, yes," Persephone sighed. She took Harry's arm and nestled her head against his shoulder while they walked. "I've been talking to her about crossing over. I'm not coming back next year, and she really doesn't get on that well with the other ghosts."

"What do you mean by crossing over?" asked Harry.

"You know, dieing properly, not lingering here any longer, passing through the veil, whatever you want to call it."

"Can ghosts die?" asked Harry, as they sat down on the stairs. "I'd sort of assumed they were stuck."

"Well, I don't know any personally that have done it, but theoretically, there's a portal that opens to the afterlife when a person dies. If a ghost was close enough at the right moment, they could enter the portal instead of the person. I think the Baron called it riding a death. Most ghosts linger because they fear death, but Myrtle stayed to get back at Olive Hornby. Which probably wasn't a good reason, but it's done."

"If any of the ghosts want their chance, they just need to hang out in the Great Hall at the Leaving Dance," Harry said heavily. "Things are going to be messy."

Persephone squeezed his arm more tightly. "It will be okay. We're doing the right thing," she said softly. In a louder voice she added. "That's not the worst idea though. Do you want me to talk the ghosts?"

"Yeah…" said Harry slowly. "Talk to the ghosts…and Peeves if you think he can keep a secret—perhaps you ought to wait to the last minute with him…and the boggart."

o

* * *

o

The Gryffindor-Slytherin game took place the last Saturday in May. It was a clear, bright day with a dazzling blue sky. Despite the fact it would be his last game at Hogwarts and the Quidditch cup would go to the victor, Harry had never felt more at ease before a match. Both teams were determined, but the tension between them was at an all time low.

The Slytherin team captain, Jonathan Weatherby, gave Ginny a hard smile as they shook hands. Ginny gave him a radiantly confident one in return. Harry was expecting a dazzling display of overconfidence from Malfoy, but the pale Slytherin was whiter than usual. He started to ask Draco if he were ill, but no one rescheduled Quidditch matches for little things like that.

"Ready to eat my dust, Malfoy?" Harry called hoping to inspire a snappy comeback. Instead Draco blanched. _Oh, this is no fun,_ Harry thought. Ron caught his eye and shrugged. The Quaffle was released into play and the Slytherin chasers took possession first. The crowd was chanting Chesann's name.

Harry shot off to look for the snitch. He made a quick pass around the field then slowed to a rest at a high altitude, so he could check how the rest of the game was going below. Malfoy came to a rest just beside him, and Harry realized that Malfoy must have tailed him through his loop. "Are you just going to follow me the whole time?" asked Harry.

Malfoy did not deign to so much as look at him in reply. His steely grey eyes were searching the skies. Harry was finding this new tactic very annoying. This was the first time he had ever _wanted_ to hear Malfoy speak during a Quidditch game, and naturally the Slytherin was ignoring him.

Though not entirely, it seemed. When Harry tried to fly away, Malfoy was right beside him. It was the first time he and Draco had been on brooms that matched each other for speed, so this time it would really came down to a test of skills. Harry smiled. _Okay, Malfoy, let's see how well you can fly_.

The answer turned out to be pretty well, when Draco was not expending his energy on taunting the Gryffindor team. He followed Harry through each breakneck twist and turn. Harry got so tied up in testing Malfoy that for a moment he forgot about the snitch. He pulled up short when he realized his mistake. The Slytherin chasers were slowly gaining the edge over Gryffindor. He stole a glance at Ron and saw that his friend was beginning to look flustered. That was never a good sign.

Harry had pulled his eyes away to look for the snitch once more when a cry of despair rose up from the Slytherin crowd. Malfoy swore audibly. It took Harry a few seconds to piece together that the star Slytherin chaser had been hit by a bludger. The Slytherin team captain called for a time out. Chesann was escorted off the field by Madam Hooch. He and Malfoy broke apart to conference with their teams.

Ginny looked grim. "Jonathan doesn't want to concede the match, so neither are we. They're up by twenty points now, but that won't last long with Chess gone. Malfoy's the only chance the Slytherin team has, so watch yourself, Harry."

With Chesann's retirement from the field, Harry thought the kindest thing to do would be to end the match quickly. The spirit of the Slytherin team seemed to be broken. Malfoy rejoined him in the air looking more grim faced and determined than ever. The snitch was being elusive. Harry thought he saw a glint of gold and dove toward it, only to discover it was someone's watch. Malfoy was right on top of him the entire time.

This was getting serious. Slytherin and Gryffindor were tied now, but they would have to get a hundred and sixty point ahead before who caught the snitch became irrelevant. Malfoy might not be cheery, but he was flying better than ever. The last time Harry had played against Draco catching the snitch had been a near thing, and Malfoy was on a much better broom this time.

The seekers were too close together for either team to risk sending bludgers their way. Still the bludgers had a mind of their own. Harry and Draco had to break apart to avoid a particularly aggressive one. It only bought Harry a few seconds of relief before Draco was back on him again. He did not dare spare a glance to see who was scoring, though he was vaguely aware of the rise and fall of the cheers.

Another small detail entered Harry's mind. Draco was taller than he was, and therefore had longer arms. If it came down to the two of them being neck and neck, that would give Malfoy an advantage. He had to figure out a way to use Malfoy's strategy against him. Harry licked his lips. Time to try the Wronski Feint. He began to circle the pitch at half-speed. Malfoy flew forward so he had a slight lead on Harry. Harry paced himself. _On three..._

He broke off suddenly from Malfoy and sped towards ground at the center of pitch. He sensed Malfoy follow, but did not dare take his eyes off the ground. He would need to pull up at just the right moment, so that Malfoy would not be able to.

And then Harry realized Malfoy wasn't following. Malfoy must have recognized it was a feint halfway down. _No, worse,_ Harry realized as he pulled up from his dive. Malfoy had spotted the snitch. Harry pushed his Firebolt as hard as it would go, but Malfoy's Timebender was just as fast. Harry was almost close enough to grab Draco's robes, when the Slytherin's hand closed around the snitch.

The roar from the crowd was deafening but distant all at once. Harry was stunned. He had _never_ lost the snitch to Malfoy before. He gritted his teeth and tried not to take it too hard. It was possible that Gryffindor Chasers had scored enough points to save them the cup. With a bit of effort, he forced himself to look at the scoreboard.

One hundred eighty points to one hundred ninety.

Gryffindor had won.

Harry laughed with relief. Malfoy seemed unaware of the score. He was looking at the snitch in his hand with the sort of wonder usually reserved for a first-born child.

There was a bit of an argument after they set down. Apparently, the Quaffle had been in route to the goal before Malfoy caught the snitch but there was debate as to whether the ball had actually scored before the game ended.

Harry could not have cared less. Either way Gryffindor had the cup. Ron and Jonathan were shouting their selves hoarse over it. Ginny told Ron to stop being a git and announced she was going to visit Chesann in the hospital wing before storming off the field. Malfoy did not seem to be paying much attention. He was still cradling the snitch in one hand.

In the end, Madam Hooch declared the match a draw. Ron was still sulking about it during the victory celebration in the Gryffindor common room, but he finally stopped after Olive Oglethorpe planted a kiss on his cheek and claimed he was the only thing that had kept the game from being a Slytherin win. Harry caught Hermione's eye, and they gave each other as-long-as-he's-happy looks.

The party went well into the night, and Harry was one of the last ones to linger in the common room. He was too exhausted to move from the spot where he had collapsed onto the couch.

Hermione and most of the other students had gone up to bed. Harry was contemplating it. The adrenaline from the match had left him hours ago, and his head felt very heavy. He was reluctant to concede that the day had ended. All that was left to look forward after this were the exams and the dance.

With a bit of an effort Harry raised his head. Ron was lolling across the other end of the couch. He was using his wand to pop blue Droobles bubbles that were nesting near the ceiling. It stirred a memory in Harry, and he gave his best friend and assessing look. "Hey, Ron, can I ask you something?"

"Sure, mate." Ron must have caught something in Harry's tone, because he straightened up and gave him a curious look.

"When you said you'd kill Malfoy if he touched Hermione, you didn't seriously mean you'd kill him. Did you?"

Harry was a little worried that the question might upset Ron, but he took it in stride. "He's still alive, isn't he?"

Harry felt a bubble of relief, but Ron made a face. "I will if he hurts her, though."

The bubble inside of Harry turned into lead. "You mean physically, right? You wouldn't take his head off if he stood her up or something."

Ron snorted. "Naw, it would serve her right if he stood her up. She should know better than to trust a Malfoy."

Harry relaxed. If Malfoy ever attacked Hermione, he deserved to have his head taken off. Not just because of Hermione, though that would have been reason enough, but it would also likely mean that his entire conversion had been a charade. As Malfoy was so fond of reminding them, they were at war.

"You okay, Harry?" asked Ron.

"Yeah," yawned Harry. "I'm just tired. It was a stupid question. Think I'm just letting the stress get to me."

"Naw, it's not a stupid question," said Ron. "I'm not going to go crazy on you, okay? I'm not going to pretend to like Malfoy, either, but if he's can help, I can put up with him. For _your _sake."

Harry smiled. "Thanks. It means a lot."

"You know we would face down Voldemort with you if you asked," Ron said seriously. "There's nothing saying that you _have_ to face him alone."

"I say it," Harry said firmly. "It's more practical than noble. He can cast the Imperius Curse, and I can't be fighting my friends while I'm trying to fight him. Just keep the Death Eaters away. That's my best chance."

Harry could tell Ron was not crazy about the plan, but it appeared that was his last protest. "Thought you'd say that." Ron shifted himself over to sit closer to Harry and spoke in a conspiratorial whisper. "I was thinking about your plan, and you know what would be a good place for a duel. Classroom Eleven. The one set up for Firenze with all the trees. There's a clear space in the middle, but lots of trees to dodge behind and windows."

Trees? Like in a forest? Harry thought back to Snape and his warning and the hundred other morbid predictions that had been made against him. He let his head drop back on the couch and shrugged. "Might as well."


	20. The Leaving Dance

**Disclaimer:** This story is based on the Harry Potter novels written by J.K. Rowling. All characters created by J.K. Rowling are owned by J.K. Rowling. The few characters created by me (i.e. Persephone, Hotchet, Kagome…) belong to me, but are available for use in other fics as long as I get credited as their creator. None of us are making any money off this and no infringement is intended.

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o

**Level 1.8: The Leaving Dance**

_There is a room in the Department of Mysteries that is kept locked at all times._1

Harry was vaguely aware that the Nastily Exhausting Wizarding Tests lived up to their name. They were far more difficult than his O.W.L.s had been, but he did not feel the same mix of pressure and dread that he had during fifth year. He was surreally calm. His mind was incredibly clear and focused. He remembered the O.W.L.s looming like an impossible barrier. The N.E.W.T.s on the other hand seemed like another short hurdle to jump on his way to the Leaving Dance.

Hermione was still studying during every free minute, but she was not snapping like she had during the O.W.L.s. She kept repeating Zabini's words like a mantra. "I either know it, or I don't."

Ron was showing some signs of stress, but he was keeping them in check. Harry might have been projecting his calm, but most of the other students seemed to be handling things well. One of the Slytherin girls was reported to have broken down in the middle of her Arithmancy exam and sent to Madam Pomfrey for a calming draught, but she was the only one Harry was aware of having done so.

Hannah Abbott was practically giddy and kept asking everyone about their career plans until Ron asked her to "Please shut up about that already." Ernie Macmillan was thankfully not comparing his study habits with everyone but seemed to radiate determination.

The same group of ancient examiners from their O.W.L.s was administering the N.E.W.T.s except one of their number had been replaced by a younger wizard in his thirties. Harry could not help watching him suspiciously when he was not answering exam questions, but the N.E.W.T.s passed without incident. The examiners left Hogwarts, and the students had a few days of freedom to relax before the Leaving Dance.

Or they would have been able to relax if they were not anticipating the arrival of Lord Voldemort. The Room of Requirement was keeping a constant hum of activity. Harry was checking and rechecking his plans with the school prefects. They risked one more dorm drill with the younger students.

Ron went into a bit of a panic when he realized his dress robes no longer fit. He had not tried them on since the beginning of sixth year, but Harry convinced him to let Persephone have a look at them. Ron was extremely nervous to have her point the silver wand at him, while he stood in burgundy robes that were way too tight and several inches too short, but her _Tayloris_ spell worked just as well on Ron's robes as they had on Harry's.

"Cool," Ron said, admiring his renewed robes. "You've gotta teach me that one."

But there was no time to learn new spells. Harry, Ron, and Hermione were called in to decorate for the Leaving Dance along with the other prefects. This suited their plans all too well. Garlands of Juniper and Milfoil were hung around the Great Hall. Pansy Parkinson told everyone that is was a pity the Head Boy and Girl were in charge of decorations and gave long explanations on how she would improve them. No one told her the greenery had been chosen for reasons other than its appearance.

Hermione slipped down to the kitchens to arrange things with the house-elves. When Pansy commented on her absence, a fifth year Slytherin prefect suggested she had left early to get ready and said that Pansy could go do the same if she liked. "It will be all right. I don't have to get ready, so I'll handle your part," the fifth year assured her, and Pansy took advantage of her generosity.

The Leaving Dance was less formal than the Yule Ball had been. Instead of a banquet before hand, there was a large but simple refreshment table to one side. The four great tables had been cleared out of the room, and a number of smaller tables were put in their place. They were probably the same ones from the Yule Ball though fewer in number, as only half as many students would be attending. They arranged these so that they were close to the wall and left a clear path of retreat to the doors. The High Table was also removed to make room for the band to set up.

Harry had a nervous desire to be involved in every element of the preparations and had a little trouble reminding himself to step back and supervise. He lingered in the Great Hall longer than he was really needed and watched the fifth years set out the flower arrangements, which had been laced with memory enhancing forget-me-nots.

Persephone and Draco entered the Great Hall, attempting to look casual while carrying between them a chest large enough to stuff a full-grown man inside. They were actually pulling off the casual part remarkably well, and Harry probably would have ignored them if he did not already have a good idea of what was held in the trunk.

"Is that what I think it is?" he asked them quietly.

They paused. Malfoy gave him a tired smile. "Yeah, it's our little surprise for Uncle Tom."

"Are the rooms ready?" Harry asked.

Malfoy nodded. "Yup, all three of them. We made all the modifications you asked for."

"Where's the box?"

"Classroom Eleven, north corner."

Harry had had some reservations about using Classroom Eleven, but he had been spitting fate in the eye since he was one year old. He saw no reason to stop now.

"It looks like they're nearly done," Persephone said. "Why don't you go get yourself ready, Harry?"

"What about you?"

"We're gonna stash this under the refreshment table, then I'm heading back to the dorm," Persephone said lightly. "It's gonna be murder finding a free sink in the girls bathroom."

"Right, well, I guess I could go ahead and change," Harry said.

"I'll see you at the dance, Harry," said Persephone.

Harry turned to leave. "Hey, Potter," Malfoy said. "Good luck, Potter." Harry waved to show he had heard without turning around or breaking stride.

o

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o

Harry changed into his dress robes and brushed his hair, wondering why on earth he was bothering to dress up at all. True, he would be the only one on the dance floor in blue jeans if he did not, but at least he would be comfortable. Not that his dress robes were uncomfortable exactly. They fit him perfectly, but he still found himself tugging at the sleeves. He had never pictured himself fighting Voldemort in formal wear. Not that there was an appropriate dress code for duels to the death, but he had the irrational desire to not look silly.

He checked himself in the mirror. Nothing was sticking out in a strange place. Nothing that should be hidden was visible. His hair was not lying down, but he decided the effect was not so bad. He found himself with nothing left to do in the process of dressing and wondered how girls managed to occupy themselves with multiple hours of it. He glanced at his bed, with a fleeting desire to crawl into it, and spotted _Life of the Auror_ lying beside his pillow. He had skipped _Chapter Seven: Creating Non-Work Related Relationships_ last night so that he could finish _Chapter Eight: When It Comes Down to Kill or Be Killed_.

Harry went down to the common room. It was strangely quiet considering how many people were packed into it. Though Harry had never done such a thing, it was normal on the night of the Leaving Dance for many of the younger students to sit at the top of the marble stairs in the entrance hall and watch the sixth and seventh year students pass in their formal wear. This year however notices had been posted in all the common rooms saying that fifth years and younger who were not accompanying a sixth or seventh year to the ball were required to stay in the dormitories. The younger D.A. members had been spreading helpful opinions about how boring it was to watch the older students pass anyway. Several students had been quickly indoctrinated into D.A. when they had expressed a desire to complain to their teachers about this new restriction. By now, even those who did not know the whole story had certainly figured out that something unusual was going on.

Parvati, who was wrapped in green and gold and looked even more stunning than she had at their last formal, was casting protective charms on everyone's clothing. Harry lined up with the others waiting to be charmed, extremely aware that most of the younger students were watching him. He felt guilty for spoiling everyone's fun. All his classmates looked so serious. At the same time, it was better than being caught unawares. There was always the small possibility that Voldemort would not come at all and everyone would be irritated at him for getting them so worked up.

He tried to make himself not think about it. If Voldemort came, they were ready. If not, they should be grateful. "He will, or he won't," Harry murmured to himself. _It's out of your control at this point._

He left the common room immediately after he was charmed, more to escape the stares and whispers than out of need to be somewhere. He had just started down the stairs when he heard someone calling his name.

"Potter! Hey, Potter!"

Harry turned his head to see Charles Bulstrode running towards him with Thomas Dey trailing behind him. The two first year Slytherin boys came to stop right in front of him. Harry greeted them mechanically, not sure if he wanted to deal with the boys right now or not.

"I want to give you something," Charles said. "It might prove useful."

Harry looked uncertainly at the object Charles was holding out to him. "Your wand? Why do you want to give me your wand?"

"_Priori Incantatum_," Charles said.

Harry raised his eyebrows. "Persephone told you about that?"

Charles shook his head. "We overheard Millicent and Indigo talking about it." Thomas held up a pair of Extendable Ears as explanation.

"So you know what's supposed to happen?" Harry asked, and the boys nodded. "I can't take your wand, Charles. You may need it."

"I plan to be hiding down in the Slytherin dormitory," Charles said. "The fifth years have some rather nasty traps waiting for the Death Eaters if they do manage to get through the door. Besides I'm a first year. What am I going do if they get past? Shoot sparks at them?"

"You shouldn't sell yourself short," Harry said. "You'd be surprised what you can get through as a first year. I can't take your wand."

"Don't be silly, Potter. It'll do you a lot more good that it'll do me," Charles insisted. "I'll be fine. Thomas will protect me." Thomas nodded.

Harry took Charles' wand. It could not hurt to have an extra, and the kid could have a point about _Priori Incantatum._ "Thanks. Now, you two better get down to your common room. I don't know exactly when the party's starting."

Charles grinned at him, and the boys ran off.

o

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o

Harry arrived early at the Great Hall. A few of the fifth year perfects were helping the band set up.

"Wotcher, Harry!" Tonks voice carried across the hall. She waved him over. "Ooo, don't you look sharp? Got a big date planned tonight?"

"You could say that," Harry said wryly. Seeing Tonks made him feel a little better. Her hair was very pink tonight with a few purple strands shot through. He had a scary thought. "You have you're wand on you right?"

"Never go anywhere without it," said Tonks. Her eyes narrowed suspiciously. "How come?"

"Just in case," said Harry, trying to look nonchalant.

"In case of what?"

"Just in case." He gestured to the instrument hanging around her neck. "Is that an electric guitar?"

"Now where would I plug in an electric guitar?" Tonks said, shaking her head. "This here is a magic guitar. Sounds a bit like an electric though, wanna hear?" She played a riff. It did sound a lot like an electric guitar but not quite, and it shot off brightly colored sparks with every note she hit. "Wicked, huh?"

"It's great," Harry said, feeling slightly anxious. He was starting to wonder if Tonks' band could play the right kind of music for a school dance. "Do you sing too?"

Harry noticed the other band members twitch. Tonks sighed. "I'd love to, but this lot said they'd kick me out of the band if I tried again." Tonks surveyed the Great Hall. "Interesting choice in decorations. We went with a bit more sparkle during my last year…but this is nice, very mellow."

"Hey, Potter, have you seen Hermione?" Draco's voice preceded him as he walked towards the stage. Malfoy had changed into his dress robes as well. They were silver and cut in a series of sharp layers. He seemed to have taken much greater care with his hair than Harry had.

"Not recently," Harry said, suddenly feeling like his black robes were very boring.

"She was supposed to meet me here," Malfoy said.

"It's still early," Harry said, sounding more irritable than he had intended, but Malfoy did not seem to notice. "Where's Persephone?"

Malfoy shrugged. "Probably still fixing her hair."

"So, are you gonna introduce me to your friend, Harry?" Tonks interjected. "Or am I just here for ornamental purposes?"

Draco eyed Tonks uncertainly, and Harry felt a wicked grin grow on his face. "Draco Malfoy, this is your cousin Nymphadora Tonks." Draco looked startled.

"Don't call me Nymph—" Tonks stopped in mid rebuke. "Who'd you say he is?"

"Draco Malfoy. He's your first cousin right?"

"We've never met," Draco said, not sounding particularly thrilled to be meeting now. He was eyeing Tonks' pink hair and ripped T-shirt disapprovingly.

"Decide he was alright, did we?" Tonks asked with raised eyebrows.

"Yeah," Harry said, resisting the urge to qualify. "He's with us."

Her eyebrows raised a little higher, but she seemed to be willing to take Harry's word on the matter. "Wotcher, cous," Tonks said and stuck out her hand for Draco to shake. Draco stretched out his own hand reluctantly.

"Tonks is an Auror," Harry explained.

"You're kidding," Draco said.

"What's that 'spose to mean?" Tonks demanded, pulling her hand back and placing it on her hip.

"Nothing," Malfoy backpedaled. "You just expect Aurors to be a bit more…"

"A bit more what?" Tonks tone was starting to get dangerous.

"Well, I'll leave you two to get acquainted," Harry said and hurried off before either of them could object.

People were starting to drift in, and Harry spotted Ron and Luna. Ron had his hand around Luna's and seemed to be half guiding, half dragging her along. Luna drifted contently beside him. Harry joined them.

"Hey, Ron."

"Hey."

"You look nice," he told Luna. He was not exaggerating. She was dressed in silky, silver dress robes, a much softer shade and cut than Malfoy's, and her long hair was pulled up in an elegantly complicated way with artistically escaping tendrils.

"Thank you, Harry," she said with a misty smile. "What do you think, Ron?"

"Oh, yeah, you look fine," Ron said distractedly. "Where's Hermione?"

"She's still getting ready," Lavender Brown supplied.

"Still?" Ron said. Lavender shrugged, and Seamus led her towards the dance floor.

"Why don't we get some food?" Harry asked.

"I'm not hungry," said Ron.

"I'm not very hungry either," said Luna.

"Okay, then, I'll get something," said Harry. In the midst of the preparations he had skipped lunch, and he was very hungry. He piled a plate and brought it back to the table where Ron and Luna had taken seats.

Ginny swept up to them in floaty, pale blue robes that left her shoulders bare. She had white flowers woven into her red hair. "Are you going to sit there all night, Ron?"

"Maybe," Ron said obstinately.

Ginny rolled her eyes. "Do you wanna dance, Harry?"

"No thanks, I think I'll sit this one out," said Harry. "I've got a good view of the room from here and food."

"You're both hopeless," said Ginny disapprovingly.

"I'm not hopeless," said Harry. "I'm hungry."

Ginny eyed him skeptically and sighed. "If Uncle Tom's not here in an hour, I'm going to physically drag you onto the dance floor. Anyway, Padma says all the fifth years have checked in from their common rooms."

"Thanks, Ginny."

"Who are you here with anyway?" Ron asked.

"Dean," Ginny said.

"I thought you broke up."

"We did," said Ginny. "We just decided to go to the dance together."

Dean made his entrance carrying two cups. He handed one to Ginny. She smiled at him, and they wandered off.

"I thought they broke up," Ron repeated when they had left.

"I didn't know they were together," said Harry with a shrug.

"I like the garland," said Luna.

The band began to play, and Harry was pleased to hear that Fred was right. They were not bad. Harry gave Tonks a thumbs up, and she winked at him. He spotted Malfoy milling about just out of the way of the dancers and looking a bit lost. There was still no sign of Persephone. Hermione however was finally making her way through the doors. She was wearing pale green robes with long, split sleeves. Harry was happy to see she had not done a thing with her hair.

He stood to greet her. "New dress?"

"Same one I didn't get to wear last year," Hermione said. She glanced at his plate. "Good, you're eating."

"I do that on occasion," Harry said. "Where have you been? Everyone's been asking for you."

"Down in the kitchens," Hermione said. "Didn't get away until a few minutes ago. But I think everything's ready now. Make sure you drink some punch. It's got a Strengthening Solution in it. That should give you better resistance to any physical attacks and help you heal faster. And there's pickled Myrtlap in the dip, that's good for curse and jinx resistance. And then we individually wrapped the chocolates, that's part of what took so long, but I thought it would be good if everyone slipped a few in their pockets in case the dementors…and don't worry if the hors d'oeuvres taste a little funny, that's just the Wit Sharpening Potion, and well…just make sure you eat a bit of everything and spread the word."

"Sounds like you've been busy," Harry said.

Hermione tried to smile but had trouble holding it. "Oh, Harry." She threw her arms around his neck and hugged him very tightly.

He pushed her bushy hair out of his face and patted her back. "It will be all right," he whispered. "We're ready for him. I'll be all right."

She released him, nodding and looking slightly embarrassed. She looked at Ron who was determinedly looking somewhere else. Harry thought she would like to hug him too, but Ron was still radiating hostility. Hermione bit her lip. "Be careful, Ron," she said. Ron gave a small grunt of acknowledgment. "You too, Luna."

Luna smiled at her.

Hermione looked around and spotted Malfoy. "Has he been waiting?"

"Yeah," Harry admitted.

She sighed and straightened her dress with the air of getting something unpleasant over with. "I'll see you later, Harry," she said.

He sat back down when she left and stared past the stage at the great windows. He thought pickled Myrtlap sounded pretty vile but forced himself to eat some dip. He watched Tonks' magic guitar rhythmically spit sparks as she played. He felt oddly calm but also that something was missing.

"What he doing?" Ron said suddenly in a startled voice.

Harry sighed and located Draco and Hermione on the dance floor. "Looks like they're dancing." Harry leaned towards him and murmured. "Hey, Ron, why don't you dance with Luna? Make Hermione jealous for a change."

"I'm not jealous! I just don't like that slimy—" he said something that made Luna raise her eyebrows. "—git touching Hermione."

"I'm not crazy about it either, but he's here with Hermione. And you're here with Luna."

"It's okay, Harry," Luna said. "I really don't like dancing. Would you get us some punch, Ron?"

"Sure," Ron said irritably and made his way towards the bowl.

Harry scanned the crowd. Pansy Parkinson was dancing with the Slytherin team captain. She was casting Draco and Hermione looks every bit as acidic as the ones Ron was giving them. Harry was doing his best not to look at them. Several of the school ghosts were flying overhead, enjoying the festivities. Nearly Headless Nick was dancing with the Grey Lady. Moaning Myrtle was sulking in the corner but waved when Harry looked her way. He gave her a quick nod in response. His eyes passed over the teachers who were chaperoning the dance. He knew Firenze had been drafted, but it was still strange to see the centaur in the Great Hall. McGonagall was deep in conversation with the Professor Kotter, who if Harry remembered was the Muggle Studies Master.

Harry realized what was missing. He abandoned his plate and hurried across the room to the cluster of chaperons. "Professor-Professor McGonagall, where's Dumbledore?"

Professor McGonagall surveyed Harry with a wary eye. "He's gone to bed early, Potter. Why? Is there a problem?"

"No, Professor," Harry said, willing his pulse to return to normal. "Is he all right?"

McGonagall's expression softened. "He's not ill, if that's what's worrying you. Just tired. I'd rather not bother him, unless it is necessary."

"I understand," said Harry. For a second he considered asking McGonagall to wake him. He knew Dumbledore's powers would be a significant asset if and when it came to a battle, but Harry did not want anything to come between himself and Voldemort. Dumbledore would be difficult to dissuade from protecting him. "It's best to let him sleep."

"Milfoil and Juniper," Firenze remarked upon decorations. "An interesting choice. Have you been watching the stars, Harry Potter? Mars is at its brightest this night."

"We took that into consideration," said Harry.

Firenze gave him a tight smile. "We must consider all the stars. Venus shines clear as well."

"Isn't that a planet?" said Harry.

"So it is," said Firenze, with an indulgent air as though Harry had entirely missed the point.

"Good evening, Professors," Snape said as he joined the group. He was unsurprisingly dressed in black as well, only with green accents.

"Good evening, Severus," said McGonagall.

Professor Sinistra frowned at him. "Severus, where's Persephone?"

Snape shrugged, looking slightly nervous. "I don't know. I haven't seen her."

Professor Sinistra exchanged a startled look with Professor Kotter. "I'll go," he said, and hurried towards the entrance hall. He did not get very far. Persephone met him at the door. Harry felt a wash of relief and went to join them. By the time he reached Persephone, Kotter had finished scolding her tardiness and was wandering off.

"You're late," Harry said.

"Sorry, my hair took a long time." Harry saw that she had managed to tame it. Probably with copious amounts of Sleekeazy's Hair Potion. Harry wondered if Hermione had turned her onto it. Persephone was dressed in short sleeved robes of soft peach.

Harry grabbed her hand and dragged her towards the refreshment table. "Come on, you need to eat something."

She made no protest as he loaded her a plate with a little bit of everything and filled herself a cup of punch. Professor Snape wandered over to the punch bowl. "Here, drink up," Persephone told him, handing Snape a cup. They gave each other a secretive smile, which Harry ignored for his sanity's sake.

"Here eat," he said thrusting the plate at her. Snape sensed the hostility and slinked off. "Did you tell him?" Harry asked.

"No," Persephone said, setting down her cup so she could takes some crisps and dip. "I wanted to, but I didn't. He'd tell the staff. Though maybe…Harry, what is it, Harry?"

Harry propped himself against the table. He felt suddenly dizzy. His scar was hurting, burning. "He's coming?" Persephone said, and Harry nodded. "He's coming!" She repeated more loudly.

More than a warning, Harry felt as though someone was attempting to actively invade his mind. _No, no, I won't let you in_. While Harry tried to fight off the attack on his mind, he heard Hermione's voice rise above the murmur. "Everyone get into your Houses. He's coming!"

Persephone touched his shoulder. "Harry?" she said tentatively.

Harry clamped down his mental defenses. He had to keep his focus, everyone was counting on him. The music faded off as the students broke away from their dates and quickly divided into their Houses. They looked determined, but the staff and band looked extremely confused. "Clear the stage!" Harry shouted. "Tonks, clear the stage! Get everyone away from the windows!"

"You heard him," Tonks shouted at the other band members and pulled out her wand. "Clear off!"

McGonagall was standing over Harry as well, already gripping her wand. "Professor McGonagall," Harry said urgently, still fighting the pain in his scar. "Go wake Dumbledore."

"Potter, what is going on?"

"No questions, just do it. Tell him Voldemort is here!"

McGonagall's eyes widened. She tensed, and Harry feared that she might demand further explanation. She did not, however. With a last glance around the room, McGonagall hurried out of it. He had a vague realization of how incredibly strange it was for him to order around the Head of Gryffindor House but pushed that thought aside.

Harry surveyed the room. The students were sorting into their Houses. Many of them already had their wands out. Slytherin and Ravenclaw arranged themselves to the sides while Gryffindor took the middle column, and the Hufflepuffs guarded the doors. Ron and Hermione stood at the head of the Gryffindor column, their wands pointed at the windows. Harry shook off the last touches of the mental attack and took his place towards the back of the Gryffindor column.

Harry pointed his wand towards his own throat. "_Sonorus_." When he spoke again his voice boomed through the Great Hall. "Space out so your wand's not pointed directly at anyone's back," he instructed. Students shuffled to comply.

"What's happening?" Pansy Parkinson's whimper cut through the grim silence. Harry caught sight of Victoria Dey but had no time to ponder how she had managed to slip out of her dormitory.

"I think I see something," Ron murmured.

Harry pointed his own wand towards the windows. "Get ready," he said, his voice rising above the Great Hall. "_REICIO!_" he shouted and heard the sixteen prefects echo him. They finished the spell just in time. The great windows behind the stage shattered spectacularly. Large pieces of glass fell onto the stage. Smaller but still substantially sized shards flew into the air and would have rained upon the teachers, entertainers, and students if the shield they just established had not protected them. A few screams added to the din of the breaking glass.

Six figures cloaked in black flew through the windows. They were masked so it was hard to read their faces, but Harry could still read the uncertainty in their body language as they set down just in front of the stage. They had their wands out, but were clearly expecting to find a room full of cowering and bloodied teenagers, preferably wandless, not a calm and organized army with their wands pointed. The Death Eaters had their own wands out but hesitated a moment in their confusion.

"ONE!" Harry shouted.

A sea of voices came from behind him. "STUPEFY!" "PROTEGO!" "EXPELIARMUS!"

Four of the Death Eaters went down immediately. One of them managed to cast a spell of their own. A Ravenclaw near the front collapsed. There was noise coming from behind Harry, which meant at least one Death Eater had gotten through the secret passage and was attempting to attack the group from behind. The Hufflepuffs were casting at will and not waiting for Harry's count.

"TWO!" Harry shouted.

"RICTO SEMPRA!" "EXPELIARMUS!" "STUPEFY!"

One of the four that had fallen tried to get back up but was knocked down again. A fifth Death Eater fell. "THREE!" Harry shouted. The sixth Death Eater did not manage to evade this barrage, but as he fell, five more figures entered through the window. Harry's scar burned fiercely. The first two were Death Eaters, after them came Lord Voldemort with two more behind. Unlike the first group, Voldemort's did not hesitate. There was too loud a clatter of confused voices to make out what spells and curses had been thrown, as Harry yelled, "FOUR!", but it was clear to him that Voldemort arrival signaled the time to change tactics. "RETREAT!"

"EXPECTO PATRONUM!" yelled all four Houses in unison. If the crackle and flashes of the clashing spells had been confusing, it was nothing next to the mob of darting silvery figures that filled the air. Not every student had managed to produce a full Patronus but enough of them had. Harry pointed the wand back at his throat and muttered, "_Quietus_."

The neat columns of students dissolved as they rushed their way towards the doors the Hufflepuffs were supposed to be keeping clear. Harry struggled to pull out the invisibility cloak he had tightly tucked into his robes. The teachers were hurling spells at the Death Eaters now. Harry caught Voldemort's red eyes. Voldemort raised his wand, but when he opened his mouth Myrtle flew into face.

"MURDERER!" she screamed, and kicked and punched at him. "You murdered me! I was going to be a doctor! You foul—" As a ghost her attacks did no real damage to the dark lord, but the ice fists through his face were extremely distracting. He turned his wand upon Myrtle and hissed a spell that threw her screaming across the room.

Harry had not wasted Myrtle's distraction but had wrapped the invisibility cloak around himself and headed for the gap held open by the Hufflepuffs.

It seemed like a cowardly thing to do, to run away using the other students as a shield, but his survival meant that the Dark Lord was weakened. He wove his way through the chaotic mob of students spilling out from the Great Hall and raced down the hall of classrooms beyond it. He focused his mind on the escape tunnel that had been prepared for him in Classroom Eleven. He pushed every other thought out of his mind but that escape tunnel and the path he must take to get there.

He heard more screams from behind him, felt Voldemort probe his mind looking for him, but all he let himself think about was the escape tunnel in Classroom Eleven. He fought against Voldemort's attempt to read his thoughts but knew that Voldemort was better at these things than he was. It did not matter if Voldemort knew where he was going, anyway. The tunnel would seal itself behind him. If only he could reach it before Voldemort caught up to him.

He heard another scream, knew it was Ginny, and almost tripped on his cloak. _No, I can't go back. They're fighting for me, so I can escape._

He caught sight of Classroom Eleven and put a renewed effort into closing his mind, finally managing to kick Voldemort out of it entirely.

He hoped the trail of thoughts he had left would be sufficient to lead Voldemort here. There was no escape tunnel, but the mixture of trees and open ground in Classroom Eleven made it an ideal place for a duel, particularly with the modifications Malfoy and the other students had made. Several of the large trees had been hollowed to give him places to retreat and all of them had been reinforced with protective spells to block dark magic. If he needed a better retreat and Voldemort was blocking the door, there were four more doors that had been transfigured out of the wall. At first glance they appeared to be seamless with the stone, but there were small, discreet latches that Harry knew how to recognize. The doors led to adjacent classrooms that had been similarly prepared.

Most importantly to Harry, it was far away from the all the dorms and the hospital wing. The other students had been instructed not to attack Voldemort but focus their efforts on any Death Eaters that might try to accompany him.

Harry felt another press on his mind and allowed a quick glimpse of the classroom before fighting it off. It was enough to let him know Voldemort had taken the bait.

_Good, _Harry thought behind his Occlumency. _Let him come. I'm ready._

o

* * *

o

Voldemort entered Classroom Eleven warily. It appeared empty, but he could sense that Harry Potter was nearby. The blood in his veins, Potter's blood, was calling for him. "I thought you were brave, Potter," he called softly, listening for the slight sounds or surge of emotion that might betray the boy's location. "Why do you hide from me?"

"Hey, Grandpa, over here!"

Voldemort whirled. A black-haired, teen-aged boy was standing in the doorway, looking vaguely like himself at the same age only bespectacled and sporting a lightning shaped scar. His wand was held at his side, and his mouth was curled in an arrogant smile. Voldemort understood immediately that the boy had lured him here. He was mildly surprised by the child's cleverness, but it did not matter. He had come to kill Harry Potter, and he would still do so, no matter how clever the boy thought himself. Yet, to call him "grandpa"…had that merely been a slight upon his age or did the boy mean something else? Voldemort hissed as a possibility he had long dismissed re-entered his mind.

"That's right," the boy said. "I thought you would have figured it out by now, but maybe I've been giving you too much credit."

"I knew it was possible," Voldemort admitted. "Do you think I will show mercy because of it?"

The boy snorted. "No, I'm not the stupid one here. You killed your own father, and then killed your own son. Killing your grandson would be such a little thing for a soulless beast like you."

"Soulless am I? Perhaps. I've grown beyond the need for such things."

"Grown? Hardly. You're pathetic. You're the same bitter little boy you were sixty years ago. You never learn, never grow. You killed your father out of revenge for abandoning you and your mother, and then turn around and do the same to your wife and son. You, Tom Riddle, are just like your father."

"_AVADA KEDAVRA!"_

The green light hit with enough force to blast the door to splinter and shatter the surrounding stone, but it passed through the scarred boy without the slightest hint that it touched him. He laughed, and Voldemort began to look frightened. "Now really, that didn't work the first time. Why did you think it would work now?" His holly wand pointed at Voldemort. "Like I said, you never learn."

o

* * *

o

_There is a room in the Department of Mysteries that is kept locked at all times. It contains a force that is at once more wonderful and more terrible than death, than human intelligence, than forces of nature. It is also, perhaps, the most mysterious of the many subjects for study that reside there. It is the power held within that room that you possess in such quantities and which Voldemort has not at all._ 1

o

* * *

o

Dumbledore's words came back to Harry, as he hid behind the hollowed tree. He listened to Kagome distract Voldemort with words he doubted he could ever say, though they came out in his voice. He would have to strike soon, before Voldemort realized he had been tricked. But he hesitated because inspiration had just struck. He was starting to understand.

Love. That power was love.

AND EITHER MUST DIE AT THE HAND OF THE OTHER2

Which meant he had to kill Voldemort, but not with hate. Harry realized he could never summon the amount of hatred needed to work the _Avada Kedavra_ curse even against Voldemort. What he needed was a force equally strong, stronger.

Harry spun out from behind the tree. Wand pointed at Voldemort's back, he summoned everything good, everything positive. He pictured the faces of everyone he had ever loved and who had ever loved him, focused on those thoughts and memories until the force of them flooded his veins and threatened to spill over.

"Why don't you strike?" Voldemort asked. "Afraid to destroy the last of your family?"

The force inside Harry sharpened, willing to be unleashed against this evil threatening to destroy his real family. _Let the thing be killed_, Harry thought. "_AVADA KEDAVRA_!"

A red light sprang from his wand and struck Voldemort as he turned towards the new voice. For a second Voldemort's white face was awash in red, then he crumpled to the ground in a pile of black robes. Harry took a deep breath and dropped the wand to his side. It had worked.

Voldemort was…still alive.

Harry realized this only a millisecond before the Dark Lord stabbed the wand in his direction.

"_AVADA KEDAVRA_!"

There was a scream and everything went dark.

o

* * *

o

Voldemort laughed. He was shaken by the boy's attack. It had left him weak, but he could still stand. He looked at his grandson, lying face down on the grass. _Pity_, he thought. _He would have been a worthy heir._

"_Petrificus To_-!"

Voldemort whirled. "_Expelliarmus!_" he shouted at the wizard at the door. The wand flew out of the boy's hand and clattered uselessly against the wall behind him.

The boy glanced at it helplessly and must have realized the futility of reaching for it, because he turned his black eyes defiantly to look upon Voldemort. This was not the echo of Harry Potter that had distracted him before, but another boy that he knew just as well. His black hair, impracticably cut, fell into his face, but he was recognizable all the same.

"Oh dear, Severus," Voldemort said with a soft chuckled. "What have you done to yourself? I heard about your little accident…or was is it an accident? Foolish thing to do, when you must have known I was on to you. Or did you think I might overlook you, if you were no longer a threat to me?"

"I'm a still a threat to you," Snape spat in the depthless voice of a teenager and tossed his head so the hair fell away from his eyes.

Voldemort laughed again. "Your memory really must be gone as well. Or you would know better than to defy Lord Voldemort, to whom you have sworn your allegiance."

"I never swore allegiance to you," this young Snape hissed. "The man who did that is gone, along with the mark that bound him to you, and even then, he was lying when he swore."

"But as you said, that liar is gone. I am in a good mood at the moment, Severus," Lord Voldemort said. "You are young and hot headed, once again. But I will give you one last chance to redeem yourself. Swear your loyalty to me, return to your friends. Now that the boy's threat has passed, I may even be willing to spare the Potter girl…yes, I know she lives. Narcissa was foolish to think that she could hide her from me. Beg me for her life, Severus. Grovel on hands and knees, and I may consider sparing it."

The boy seemed to weaken for a moment. Voldemort had always been skilled at discovering the weaknesses in others. Such an unfortunate looking, palid little boy, great in skill but starved for affection. But while Voldemort had great skill in manipulating his followers, he had never discovered an easy way to improve their intelligence.

"No," the boy said.

"Perhaps I was mistaken, Severus," Voldemort said. "I was under the impression that you loved the girl."

"That's why I won't grovel, because I love her."

"I'm afraid I don't understand," Voldemort said. He was being to grow tired of this child. He had elsewhere to be. "Do you want her dead?"

The boy smiled. He regarded Voldemort with the sort of arrogance only a teenager could be capable. "You're pathetic. You don't have the vaguest inkling of how love works, do you? That's why you're pathetic. That's why I know Potter will kill you in the end."

Voldemort spared a quick glance over his shoulder to confirm that the Potter boy was still lying face down on the grass. "Potter is dead, as you soon will be. But first I will hear you beg for mercy. CRUCIO!"

Snape screamed, his body twisting painfully under the Cruciatis Curse, and the Dark Lord laughed.

o

* * *

o

Harry Potter lay listening on the grass. His first thought when the darkness cleared had been _why didn't it work? _He was so sure it would work, so sure he had figured out how to kill the Dark Lord. It was shortly followed by thought _why didn't it work?_ Only this time he wondered why Voldemort's curse had not killed him.

He knew Voldemort would be upon him again the moment he moved, so he lay still, trying to take advantage of Snape's distraction to give himself time to think. How he survived was of secondary importance, he could figure that out later. He had to figure out why his attempt to kill Voldemort had not worked, and he had to do it fast.

_I should have known love couldn't kill, but it had felt right._

Nothing was coming to him, he was so sure he had done it right. _Why didn't it work? _ He had even used Charles' wand to avoid the _Priori Incantatum_ effect. _Wait._ _Charles' wand. _Using another wizard's wand never worked as well as using your own.

_Family. Whatever yeh say, blood's important..._ 3

Family. It all came down to family. Why hadn't it been Neville? Neville was fairly competent once he had gotten his own wand. Why had Voldemort's brother wand chosen him? His blood surely. His connection with Voldemort. It had to be more than saying the right spell. If it had been a matter of the right spell alone, it could have been done by any number of people. But there was something unique about Harry. Something he alone must be able to do.

_Priori Incantatum_.

Snape's scream snapped him out of his reverie. _Now. Do it, now!_ Harry leapt to his feet. He focused as before.

"Hey! Snake-face!"

Voldemort spun around. His red eyes wide. Snape fell to the ground with a heavy thud.

"_EXPELLIARMUS!_" he shouted at the same time that Harry shouted, "_AVADA KEDAVRA!"_

The spells collided in midair, just as they had three years ago. Harry knew what to expect this time though. A beam of light connected the two wands, only it was not gold like before. This time it was red. The beam splintered, encasing them in a web of light. Harry focused on the force flowing out of him, forcing it and the beads of light towards Voldemort. Harry could feel his weakness, his fear.

EITHER MUST DIE AT THE HAND OF THE OTHER

But Harry had already died once, as his short lifeline attributed to. It may have only been for a moment, but he knew death had passed through him and rejected him. It was Voldemort's turn.

The largest of the beads reached Voldemort's wand. It contacted. An explosion of green and red light mixed together in a blurred Christmas colored swirl. Voldemort's mouth opened in a soundless scream as he was surrounded by the light, which emitted backwards from the wand. Once again, he fell in a black pool of robes. The connection broken, the lights vanished. Harry did not lower his wand this time but kept it pointed at the fallen lord.

Voldemort however did not move, and Harry was sure he would never move again. Death had accepted him. His wand had disintegrated into ash. His white face and hand were now similarly blackened. There was no indication of breath. Harry stood there for a moment, catching his own breath, and letting it all sink in.

He heard a small movement and glanced at the door to see Snape pull himself up on the rumble of the entrance. "What was that?" he asked hoarsely.

"_Priori Incantatum_," Harry said.

"Oh," Snape said. He had only managed to pull up to his knees. He was trembling slightly and far paler than usual. Harry saw that there was blood stained on the bandage wrapped around his abdomen.

"Do you need help?" Harry asked, stepping towards him.

"No, I think I've—" His hands slipped on the rocks, and he fell back to the ground. There was a scream from the hall. Harry pointed his wand in the direction of the scream. The person who had made it came to a halt in the doorway.

"Harry?"

"Persephone?"

"Severus!" She dropped to her knees and felt his neck.

"Ouch," the prone form creaked.

Harry took this as confirmation that he was still alive and went to check that Voldemort was still dead. He did not want to put his hands on the blackened flesh, so he kicked it. The shoulder of the corpse crumbled where he had kicked. "Yuck," he said, deciding to leave the rest of it intact as evidence.

"Is that Voldemort?" Persephone said breathily from the door. "Is he?"

"Yeah, he's dead," Harry said. Snape had rolled onto his back with Persephone's help. Harry kneeled beside them.

"Where's Kagome?" Persephone asked.

"I don't know," Harry said. "I thought she was posing as Snape, but if this is the real Snape…"

Snape coughed. "That thing that looked like Harry? It jumped into the green light. I've never seen anything move so fast, then it was gone."

"She rode his death?" Persephone said softly and closed her eyes. She opened them again and looked at her nephew. "Are you okay, Harry?"

Harry nodded. "I'm fine. You take care of him. I have to…" He would prefer someone to come take him away for a much deserved rest at this point, but he knew that was not going to happen. He had won his battle, but the war was still going on. "…have to see what's happened to everyone else."

He walked back into the room to the north corner and groped along the bottom of the wall. His hands found the invisible box that Neville had given him. He opened it and pulled out the Marauder's Map inside. He knew it would have been too dangerous to keep on his person. If Voldemort had won their encounter, it would have given him the castle.

He hoped it was undamaged; they had folded it extra to fit it inside the box. "_I solemnly swear that I am up to no good_." He opened the map and checked Classroom Eleven. There were three dots. _Harry Potter_ was at the north corner. _Persephone Potter_ and _Severus Snape_ were at the door. There was no dot labeled _Lord Voldemort_ or even one labeled _Tom Riddle_.

_He's dead,_ Harry thought_. He's really dead_.

"But it's not over yet," he reminded himself, and hurried back to the door. Persephone had conjured a stretcher. He helped her lift Snape, who had fallen unconscious, onto it.

"I have to get him to the hospital wing," she said quickly. Her eyes flew to a spot past Harry's shoulder. "Is that the invisibility cloak? Can I borrow it?"

"Yeah," Harry said. "I've got to make sure everyone else gets there." He touched her arm. "Be careful, Persephone."

"You too, Harry," she said and hurried to grab the cloak.

Harry checked the hall to make sure it was still clear and then checked the map again. He spotted Ginny's dot not too far away. There were two more dots near hers, but they were not moving. Harry tucked the map into his pocket and started walking in that direction. He kept his wand in one hand, with his other hand he reached for the small mirror in his pocket.

"Hermione Granger," he said clearly, but his breath merely fogged the mirror. He felt a surge of panic but fought it down. She could be busy. "Ronald Weasley."

For a terrible moment he thought Ron was not going to answer either, but then Ron's face appeared in the mirror and his voice came out of it, sounding as sweet as Phoenix song to Harry's ear. "I'm here, mate."

"I couldn't get hold of Hermione," said Harry.

"Her mirror broke," Ron assured him quickly. "Fell out of her pocket, but she's okay. How about you? Is Voldemort…?"

"He's dead," Harry confirmed.

"Are you sure?"

"One hundred percent. He's not on the map."

Ron let out a loud war whoop.

A small, tinny voice that was not Ron's came from the mirror. "Is that Harry? Is he all right?"

"Yeah, it's Harry," Ron told someone out of view. "He's fine. He's done it."

"Thank goodness," the tinny voice said.

"Is that Hermione?" Harry asked.

"Yeah," Ron said. "She's here with me. We're at the hospital wing. Where are you?"

"First floor," Harry said. "I'm heading toward the Great Hall."

"We'll come to you."

Harry paused. "No, you stay put. You have to hold the hospital wing."

"Malfoy's got it under control," Ron said. "We'll meet you at the Great Hall."

"Weasley, don't you—!" But Ron's face was already gone. He must have pocketed the mirror. Harry swore violently but decided not to waste more time trying to get him to pick up. "Padma Patil," he said into the mirror. There was no response.

"Anthony Goldstein."

"I'm here," Anthony responded. "What's up?"

"Padma didn't answer," Harry said.

"Stunner got her," Anthony said grimly. "We had to leave her."

"Where are you?"

"Heading back from the Owlery. The signal went off as planned. All those owls going up at once, I'm sure they saw it in Hogsmeade."

"Good," Harry said. "I'll check back on you later."

Anthony nodded, and his face too disappeared.

"Ernie Macmillan," Harry said. There was no response. "Hannah Abbott." No response. Harry tried not to think about it. "Draco Malfoy."

"I'm here," Draco said. "Hospital wing's under control at the moment."

"Persephone's on her way up with Snape," Harry said quickly. "They're under the invisibility cloak, so make sure no one stuns them by mistake."

"Gotcha."

"Check in on all the Fifth Year perfects for me. Call me back only if one of them is having a problem."

"Right," Malfoy said. "Weasley said you got Voldemort. Is it true?"

"It's true," Harry said.

Malfoy looked at him from the mirror with a mix of uncertainty and respect. "Thanks," he said.

"Don't mention it," Harry said and tucked the mirror back into his pocket. He was close to Ginny's dot now. "Ginny?" he called softly.

"Over here, Harry!" Ginny called back. He rounded a corner and saw her crouched beside Dean's prone form. Two more six years were crouched beside her, keeping guard. Ginny's face was streaked with tears. "I don't know what he hit him with, but I don't think I can move him."

Harry could not remember seeing a dot labeled Dean Thomas. "Ginny," he said gently. "We have to leave him." Ginny shook her head. "We're still fighting, Ginny. We have to leave him for now. We'll come back for him later." For a second, he thought Ginny was going to argue with him, but she nodded and stood up, gripping her wand.

The other two sixth years looked grim but slightly relieved. "Follow me," Harry said.

"Harry Potter!" came a voice from his pocket. Harry fumbled for the mirror.

"I'm here."

Ernie face greeted him. "Sorry about the delay. Hannah and I were a little busy. We got cut off from the hospital. There's a group of us holed up in the library."

"Okay, thanks," Harry said. "Stay tight for now. I'm going to try to seal off the Great Hall. After that we'll start rounding up stragglers."

"Gotcha," Ernie said. "Sure you don't want help?"

"I've got help," Harry said. "You wouldn't get here in time. I'll call you back later." He put the mirror back in his pocket.

Harry paused with the others as he came to the entrance hall and listened. There were several bodies lying on the floor, one of them was groaning softly, and he could hear activity coming from the Great Hall itself. He wished he had more people with him but did not dare wait for them to come. "Come on," he said softly and crossed the hall cautiously. The others followed. Harry spared a glance at Ginny. Her face was still pink and tear streaked, but her eyes and jaw were now set with fierce determination.

Harry paused again at the entrance to the Great Hall. He motioned for the others to keep back and peered cautiously into the room. It was a strange sight that greeted him. There were a few fallen bodies here as well, and six new statues had appeared in the Great Hall. Harry recognized that the statues were of Death Eaters. There were eight students still standing, Luna and Chesann Blampied among them. They were standing in a dense cluster behind Victoria Dey who was pointing her wand at the remaining Death Eater.

The man had already been hit by several hexes. His mouth was missing, and he seemed to be incapable of much movement. His Death Eater's mask was gone. His bearded face was so dark the whites of his eyes seemed to glow in contrast. Those fierce eyes were turned upon Victoria.

"You are a very bad father," said Victoria. "_Corpus saxum fieri_." The room gained its seventh statue.

"Luna," Harry called.

Luna turned to him. "Hello, Harry," she said calmly. "Did you kill Voldemort?"

"Yeah, he's dead," Harry said, stepping into the room. Ginny and the others followed him.

"He's dead?"

"He's really dead?"

"Are you sure?"

"Later," Harry bit at them. "We need to get this sealed up." He pointed his wand at the shattered windows.

"_Reparo_?" one of the students suggested.

"Think that'll be strong enough?" asked Harry.

"If we all do it together," said Luna. She turned to face the refreshment table. "Are you going to help?"

Harry followed her gaze to see two girls in red and green, Pansy Parkinson and Daphne Greengrass huddled together against the wall. They both looked very shaken. Pansy was glaring rather murderously at Harry through her fear, but she seemed to be unarmed. Daphne however had a wand. She disentangled herself from Pansy and stood slowly. "I'll help," she said.

Pansy pulled her knees to her chest and started to cry into her formal wear. Luna gave her a disgusted look. "On three then?"

But as they raised their wands seven more people on broomsticks flew in through the windows. "_Expelli_-"

"WAIT!" yelled Harry. "They're Aurors!"

The students cheered, and the Aurors set down looking slightly baffled. Harry heard a scrabbling of feet from behind and turned to find Tonks rushing into the room. Ron and Hermione were on her heels. Hermione was clutching something orange and fluffy.

"There you lot are!" Tonks shouted at the other Aurors. "Took your time."

"Where have you been?" one of them that Harry recognized as Dawlish shot back at her.

"Had to find a fireplace," Tonks said, brushing soot off her knees. "Ran into these two on the way back."

"Can we fix the window now?" Luna asked.

"Wooo! What happened to them?" exclaimed a female Auror, who was admiring the statues.

"Victoria happened to them," Chesann said with a laugh. "Well, Victoria and us." Victoria just fixed the Aurors with a stony stare.

"There's more of them tied up in front of the hospital wing," Hermione added, still breathing heavily. Harry saw that she was also sporting some tear tracks.

"That's our fall back point," Ron added. "Where the other students are gathering."

"Dawlish, Baudelaire, you come with me," Tonks said. "We'll check it out. The rest of you listen to Harry. I think he knows what's going on."

"Where's Dumbledore?" another Auror asked.

Harry pulled out his map. "If he's in the school, he'll be on here."

Tonks put her hand on Harry's shoulder. "Leave you to it, then," she said, and she, Dawlish, and Baudelaire ran off.

They fixed the windows first. The wards were probably still damaged, but it got rid of all the broken glass littering the floor. Harry explained the Marauders Map and the mirrors as quickly as he could, while the students worked on reviving those who had been stunned and injured or getting them onto stretchers. Some of the Slytherin girls tried to console Pansy, but she called them "traitors" and would not let anyone but Daphne near her.

They discovered a couple of Death Eaters assaulting the Hufflepuff common room. Three of the Aurors and four of the students ran down to deal with them. Almost immediately after they had left, Dumbledore burst into the room in his dressing gown, followed closely by Professor McGonagall.

"Headmaster!" Harry cried with relief. The map had shown him that Dumbledore was alive, but it was a great relief to see him.

Dumbledore was flushed and paused to catch his breath. "I seem to have over slept," he said.

"There are still Death Eaters in the castle," Harry said quickly.

"I know," Dumbledore said. "Professor McGonagall had to subdue three of them to reach me. If we add the seven in here, that takes ten effectively out of the fight."

"Sixteen," Ron said. "There are six more tied up in front of the hospital wing."

"Two more down stairs," Harry said, holding the map so that Dumbledore could see. "These three are Aurors and those fours are students going to fight them."

Dumbledore turned to McGonagall. "Professor, if you would go assist them."

"Certainly," McGonagall said and hurried off.

Dumbledore took the map to survey it, and it was then that Harry remembered that he had neglected to tell him something important. "He's dead, Professor. Voldemort is dead."

Dumbledore looked at him with a look that was not really happy and not really sad. It was both and neither. "Well done, Harry. You may tell me all about it later if you like. I certainly want to hear. Right now, we have to take care of our army."

The remaining Auror introduced himself as Quagmire and helped them round up the injured from the entrance hall. Harry was greatly relieved to discover many of the students and band members had simply been stunned. A few were injured, some of those injuries looked rather severe. Dumbledore borrowed Ron's mirror and left them to collect the group in the library. Harry kept one eye on the map and another eye on the Great Hall.

"Is that Crookshanks?" Harry asked Ron when he noticed Hermione was still clutching the limp orange form while she conjured stretchers.

Ron nodded somberly. "You should have seen him. Death Eater jumped us on our way back. Crookshanks came flying out of nowhere and took a curse he'd aimed at Hermione. Then Colin hit the piece of troll dung with a nice stunner. Tonks showed up while we were binding him. Hermione and I told her where you were going, and she said she'd just told the Aurors they could get in through the broken window."

It was quite possibly the longest night Harry had ever experienced. After they had gathered everyone up, he led the large group to the hospital wing. Once they were deposited. He used the map and mirrors to organize small parties to retrieve the stragglers and the wounded. Students who had been watching the windows told stories about circling dementors and a band of giants who had started off surrounding the castle, then started fighting each other.

"Goblins! The goblins!" shrieked a curly-haired girl who had been watching the windows. "I think they're fighting on our side!" She screamed again as a large flash of light lit the windows.

o

* * *

**1.** Dumbledore "Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix" Ch. 37

**2.** From Trelawny's Prophecy "Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix" Ch. 37

**3.** Hagrid. "Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix" Ch. 25


	21. The Last Dance

**Disclaimer:** This story is based on the Harry Potter novels written by J.K. Rowling. All characters created by J.K. Rowling are owned by J.K. Rowling. The few characters created by me (i.e. Persephone, Hotchet, Kagome…) belong to me, but are available for use in other fics as long as I get credited as their creator. None of us are making any money off this and no infringement is intended.

* * *

o

**Level 2.11: The Last Dance**

The hardest part of the whole plan was keeping Pansy unaware that a war was being staged around her. Draco rotated out different students to keep her distracted during the Slytherins' training sessions. Jonathan had been roped into taking her to the leaving dance. His spirit had been broken after the last Quidditch match. Draco made it a point to remind him that he still had the next year to look forward, and there would be no Potter to worry about. This did little to cheer him up. Draco felt a tad sorry for Pansy, as she endured long whines from Jonathan about how he was going to have to completely rebuild the team. She was pretending not to mind.

They made a particularly large fuss over the May birthdays. Draco even parted with a couple of galleons to buy Pansy a present. His theory was that she would be less suspicious when kept happy, and it seemed to be working.

Hermione was still sticking to her insistence that everything between them remain platonic. She seemed to have decided to be his patron in the D.A., as though it was her job to keep an eye on him and see that he behaved. Draco did not mind too much. It was rewarding just to work beside her, practice defense, or study for Ancient Runes. She still resisted laughing at his attempts at humor, but her resistance was fading bit by bit. Draco did not know exactly where this thing with Hermione was headed, if anywhere, but right now, they were in a good place.

Potter had even managed to stop glaring every time he came with three feet of her. Though Draco wondered if this was more because Potter could not spare the energy than a sign of acceptance. Draco had been so buried in his own burdens that it had been a bit of an eye opener to realize how much was on Potter's shoulders.

His respect for Harry had been building steadily as he watched him delegate and strategize. Draco had done his best to help with the planning and preparations, attempting to take a little of the weight that Potter carried around with him. They were far from being best friends. It might be a bit of stretch to call them friends at all, but they had become allies.

Weasley held his tongue during meetings, but it was still clear he neither liked nor trusted Draco. Draco decided that it was best to get used to some general disapproval. His friends might be willing to fight Voldemort, but any mention of Hermione made them cringe. It was probably helping his credibility that she was keeping him at arm's distance. Some of them were chaffing under having Potter as a leader, so Draco was careful to phrase things so that it sounded as though they were working with Harry rather than under him.

Crabbe and Goyle who had little aptitude for research or strategy spent most of their time practice dueling with other students. They had each managed to master the corporeal Patronus, a bear and an ox. Normally this would have driven Draco to distraction. He had improved, but a large shield was still the best that he could do. For some reason, though, it did not bother him. They were preparing for war, but not since his early childhood had Draco felt his mind more at peace.

It turned out that Potter, unlike Professor McGonagall, had been impressed by Draco's idea of creating a door that still kept the look of the wall. Potter had chosen Classroom Eleven as the place he would try to lure Voldemort for a private duel, because it was on the ground floor and the trees offered places for Harry to hide while Kagome created a distraction. Harry wanted Draco to create doors in the walls to the adjoining classroom. Potter had every intention of fighting Voldemort to the death this time around, but he had seen the wisdom of providing himself with an escape route or two if things went wrong. At least he had after Hermione spent ten minutes arguing with him about it.

Draco took Blaise and Indigo with him to help make the modifications to Classroom Eleven. Blaise and Indigo set about transfiguring the doors while Draco hid the invisible box with the Marauder's Map in the far corner. Had circumstances been different and the time earlier in his school career Draco would have been extremely tempted to nick it, but he decided he should show Harry as much trust as Potter had shown him.

When they were finished, Draco returned to the Great Hall to help the other prefects set up for the dance.

Hermione was already there, along with the rest of the prefects. Draco wanted to speak with her and finalize their plans to meet, but he was intercepted. "You're late," Pansy sniffed and dumped a load of garland into his arms.

"Fashionably so?" Draco asked, attempting to keep things light, though he was miffed at her for blocking him.

"Hardly," Pansy said coldly. "Not that it matters, these are the ugliest decorations I've ever seen for a school dance." She shot an acid look at Harry and Parvati. "You would think a Patil would have better taste."

_Pity Granger isn't head girl then, isn't it?_ Draco as tempted to say but stopped himself. "Well, I'm sure you could have done better, but not everyone has your natural aptitude for these things." He added in a low whispered, "Can't expect Potter was any help to Padma. You've seen how he dresses."

Pansy smirked in spite herself. "But honestly!" she said dramatically and reminded Draco of his desire to get to Hermione. "Forget-me-nots centerpieces. Couldn't we have managed lilies or roses, or something elegant?"

"Well they're symbolic aren't they?" Draco said in a dryly-sarcastic tone. "School memories and all that."

Pansy tutted and dragged Draco toward the wall by the garland. "I'm fond of green and all," Pansy said as she helped him unravel the mass, "but if I were in charge, I would arrange for a bit more color." She gave Draco an eyelash hooded look and spoke more wistfully. "Do you remember the Yule Ball?"

Draco nodded. Hermione had worn the prettiest blue dress. It had made Draco strangely angry to look at her, not simply because she was on Krum's arm. That had shocked him. The fact that Hermione was pretty had seemed like such a private thing before that, a secret of which only he was aware. He had been annoyed for it to come out where everyone could see. He wondered if she would wear blue again this year. Surely she would have outgrown that particular dress.

"It was so beautiful," Pansy continued. "Everything glistened." She sighed. "The trouble with these decorations is there's no clear _theme_ to them."

_Yes, there is_, Draco thought, but again held his tongue. To his dismay, Hermione was heading for the door. He want to race out and catch her, but he knew it was more important to keep Pansy distracted. "Sure there is," he said in an undertone. "They're all very dull."

Pansy laughed. "They need roses everywhere. Laced through the garlands. That would make them pretty. Do you remember the rose garden at the Yule Ball?" she asked slyly. Draco did. He had kissed her there. Even managed to forget Hermione for the rest of the evening. "We could transfigure these," she suggested.

"Best to leave them," Draco said.

Pansy sighed. She and Draco used their wands to levitate the garland up and sticking charms to adhere it to the wall. "Jonathan's been bragging about taking you tonight," Draco lied.

Pansy looked pleased at this. "Well, we've gotten rather fond of each other," she lied back. "Though we're really just going as friends. We think it would be unfair to each other to form any sort of commitment with me leaving school in a week. Still, I have the entire summer to lose my resolve." She snuck a look at Draco, trying to find some sign of jealousy.

Draco could not resist. "See that's the nice thing about me and Hermione, both of age and out of school soon. Plenty of time to let things develop at a healthy pace."

Pansy flushed. "I hope you invite me over when you take her to meet your parents," she said in a clipped tone. Draco hated the fact her comment had managed to cut him. He had been doing his best to push his parents out of his mind. "Where is Granger anyway?" she asked, finally taking note of Hermione's absence.

Draco shrugged, not wanted to speak to Pansy anymore.

"I think she went to get ready," a fifth year prefect volunteered. "You could too if you like."

Pansy shook her head with an air of noble sacrifice. "My hair doesn't need that much work to make it manageable. I'm sure Granger _needs_ that extra time. Otherwise it would be incredibly common of her to skive off her prefect duties, but then you know how some seventh years can get towards the end."

The fifth year laughed. "Don't worry about it, Pansy. We're nearly done. This is your special night. It's okay to take a little extra time."

"Well, if you're sure," Pansy said, clearly tempted by the prospect of getting away early.

"It will be all right," the fifth year assured her. "I don't have to get ready, so I'll handle your part."

Pansy beamed a smile at her. "Well, if you insist." Pansy left just as Persephone came in.

"Would you help me with Kagome?" she asked Draco. "I've got her in the trunk already," she added quickly when she saw his expression. "But I'm not sure where to put her."

"I'll help you," Draco said, because the fifth year looked curious. Only a few members of the D.A. knew about that part of the plan. He walked Persephone out of the Great Hall and down to the dungeon where Kagome was waiting. They had to pass through the corridor where Draco had seen the boggart appear as Lord Voldemort. The Gryffindors had been good not to tell everyone about that. Maybe Hermione had been holding out hope for him even then.

"We can store her under the refreshment table. The tablecloth will cover her."

He cast a feather light charm on the trunk, and he and Persephone carried it between them back up to the Great Hall.

"Is that what I think it is?" Potter asked them quietly.

Draco smiled, feeling almost fond of Harry at the moment. "Yeah, it's our little surprise for Uncle Tom."

"Are the rooms ready?" Potter asked. Draco thought he sounded a bit anxious, but he could hardly blame Harry for that.

"Yup, all three of them. We made all the modifications you asked for."

"Where's the box?"

"Classroom Eleven, north corner."

Draco thought he saw the muscles in Harry's throat constrict. Potter was not anxious. He was scared. Draco could not blame him for that either.

"It looks like they're nearly done. Why don't you go get yourself ready, Harry?" Persephone suggested.

"What about you?"

"We're gonna stash this under the refreshment table, then I'm heading back to the dorm," Persephone said lightly. "It's gonna be murder finding a free sink in the girls' bathroom."

"Right, well, I guess I could go ahead and change."

"I'll see you at the dance, Harry," Persephone said.

Harry turned to leave, and Draco realized he might never see him again. "Hey, Potter," he called. "Good luck, Potter." Harry did not turn around or even break stride, but he waved to show he had heard.

o

* * *

o

Draco and Persephone slid Kagome's trunk into place and hurried downstairs to the Slytherin dungeon. Draco showered quickly, and then attacked his nails until none of the cuticles offended. He had trimmed his hair a week in advance, so that it would look neat but not too freshly cut. He had shaved that morning but checked his jaw for any persistent stubble. He brushed his teeth, charming away anything stuck in the spaces between and tested his breath until he was sure it smelled of mint. He applied lotion potion to any part of him that betrayed a hint of roughness. He dabbed on a light cologne onto his collar bone.

His dress robes fit him well. Daphne had been right about the lines and color flattering him. He charmed away anything resembling a wrinkle and brushed his hair again. His shoes were freshly polished, so was the ring his grandfather had given him. He studied himself in front of the mirror, hunting for any imperfections.

Maybe he should have worn black. Silver was a tad garish. Or was it simply sophisticated? Daring? His mother could be trusted to know what appealed to the fairer sex, couldn't she? Then again, Hermione was not remotely like his mother. Draco glanced at the time and felt a surge of panic.

Behind him, Blaise was quietly adjusting his collar. Draco straightened himself, determined to portray an air of confidence. Blaise walked out, and Draco knew he should follow. He started to and realized he had forgotten his wand. He rushed back into the room and slipped it into the robe's clever wand pocket, which was nearly invisible beside the stitch work. He straightened himself before the mirror again and knocked a few wayward hairs back into place.

The other Slytherins were getting their robes charmed in the dormitories to avoid unwanted notice, so the common room was devoted to the waiting halves of couples. Pansy was wearing red dress robes and hanging on Jonathan's arm. Draco was a little surprised to see Blaise milling nearby, until Indigo came to join them. Her hair was pulled up into an aritistic mass of black curls with reddish brown highlights. Like Pansy, she wore red but with a more purplish hue. In all, a nice effect. Zabini certainly seemed to think so. Indigo linked her arm in Blaise's, and Draco watched the four of them walk out.

"They make a cute couple, don't they?" Daphne said as she slid up next to him.

"Pansy and Jonathan or Indigo and Blaise?"

Daphne shrugged. She was wrapped in the green dress with the crinkle texture that she had bragged about ever so long many months ago. Her hair was a curious mix of brown and blonde. Her nails were immaculate and her jewelry subdued. She gave off an air of adult sophistication as though she planned to chaperon the dance rather than attend.

"Who are you taking?" Draco asked.

Daphne scoffed. "I told you I'm only going because I like seeing everyone in their dress robes." She fingered Draco's collar appreciatively. "You won't let Granger put too many crinkles in them will you?"

Draco gave a dry laugh, wishing that was his biggest concern. "Daphne, do you have your wand?"

"I could get it," she said, looking at him curiously.

Draco nodded. "Get it and stay close to Pansy, okay?"

Daphne frowned. "Is something going to happen?"

"I don't know," Draco admitted. "But if it does, I want you to stick with her and keep her safe."

Daphne seemed to decide it was better not to ask questions, but she nodded somberly and walked back up to her dorm.

Draco decided that was the best he could do for Pansy. He tried to push her from his mind and focus on finding Hermione.

o

* * *

o

She was not in the entry so Draco looked for her in the Great Hall. He had managed to be a little early. The band was just finishing their setup and were testing their instruments. Hermione was not in the Great Hall either, and Draco felt a surge of disappointment. Where _had _she slipped off? And where was Weasley for that matter? Draco pushed the disturbing thought out of his mind. He was early. She was probably busy primping. Weasley was off sulking. They certainly were not together. She was not the sort of girl to do that to him.

He spotted Potter standing by the stage, talking to a band member. Potter was wearing black, which made Draco glad that he was not. It would have felt too much like a uniform. Had times been different, he would have offered Harry the use of his comb, but he settled for tsking silently and wondering if his own hair was too neat. Maybe he should ruffle it a bit to give it a wind swept look. Draco shook his head to clear it. _Relax, you nutter. She's just a girl._

"Hey, Potter, have you seen Hermione?"

"Not recently," Harry said, giving Draco's robes an appreciative grimace. Draco decided that was a good sign.

"She was supposed to meet me here," he said, testing to see if she had suggested anything different or more specific to Harry. Hermione's words on the subject had been rather vague. _No, you don't have to pick me up at the tower. I'll come down and meet you right before the dance starts._

"It's early," Harry pointed out as Draco searched the room again. "Where's Persephone?"

Draco shrugged. "Probably still fixing her hair." That was certain to be a monumental task.

"So, are you gonna introduce me to your friend, Harry? Or am I just here for ornamental purposes?" a lilting Cockney accent drew Draco's attention to the young woman with shockingly pink hair. A little too old to be a student, the instrument around her neck identified her as a band member. Draco's eyes raked the stage. He did not recognize any of these people.

His eyes finished their search just in time to be puzzled by the wicked grin spreading across Potter's face. "Draco Malfoy, this is your cousin Nymphadora Tonks."

"Don't call me Nymph-" the woman stopped in mid rebuke. "Who'd you say he is?" She looked just as surprised as Draco felt.

"Draco Malfoy. He's your first cousin right?" Potter continued cheerfully.

"We've never met," Draco said stiffly. He wanted to find Hermione, not have estranged relatives thrown at him.

Nymphadora did not seem too excited by the meeting either. "Decide he was alright, did we?"

"Yeah," Harry said. "He's with us." Draco was not sure whether to be annoyed that they were talking like he was not there or touched that Potter so firmly included him.

"Wotcher, cous," his stranger relative said and stuck out her hand. Draco stretched out his own hand reluctantly. It was her hair that was putting him off. He had never been a fan of unnatural colors.

"Tonks is an Auror," Harry explained.

"You're kidding," Draco said. The pink hair could not be good for vanishing in a crowd.

"What's that 'spose to mean?" Tonks demanded, pulling her hand back and placing it on her hip.

"Nothing," Draco amended quickly. He was not _trying_ to be rude. He was distracted, and the situation had caught him unawares. "You just expect Aurors to be a bit more…"

"A bit more what?" Her tone was starting to get dangerous.

"Well, I'll leave you two to get acquainted." Potter beamed at them and hurried off before either could object.

"A bit more what?" the pink hair repeated.

Draco finished shooting an accusatory look at the back of Potter's retreating head and schooled his features into something more neutral. "It's just the only Auror we've had much experience with is Moody and you don't seem anything like him."

Tonks grinned, but her eyes were narrow. "Mad-eye's one of a kind."

"Oh," Draco said, trying to sound interested, but he wanted to get back to looking for Hermione. "I'll keep that in mind."

"This your last year?" his cousin forced conversation. Draco nodded. "You ever think about becoming an Auror?"

"I-," Draco paused. Without his inheritance, it was going to be far more urgent that he find employment after Hogwarts. He had not been letting himself think that far, and it was a tad embarrassing not to have a better answer in regards to what he planned to do with himself. "Maybe, when I was ten," he admitted. "Not recently, no."

"Well, it's not for everyone," Tonks said. "But it's not boring. Not all the time."

"So you just play school dances on the side?"

"Something like that."

Just to have something to say in the awkward silence, Draco added, "I write lyrics sometimes."

His cousin finally gave him a genuine smile. "You'll have to show me some time."

Draco felt his throat tighten. All this talk like they were as likely to come through tonight as any other night was making him anxious. He made a noncommittal noise. "I have to—have to go find my date."

Tonks made her own disbelieving noise. "G'on." Draco cringed. "So who's the lucky girl?"

"Hermione Granger," Draco said softly, as though he might break the spell if he spoke her name too loud. It sounded nice and unreal all at once.

Tonks gave him an unflattering look that made Draco feel suddenly very young. "Never thought Hermione would…Never thought you for that matter."

"Hey, Tonks, stop flirtin' and start playin'," one of the band members called out.

"I'm not flirting. He's my cousin," Tonks shouted back. "Oy, look me up when you get out," she told Draco before trudging over to join the other bad members.

Draco thought Cockney should be made illegal, but he nodded all the same. The Great Hall was filling with students. The band began playing some tolerably pleasant music.

Draco watched the doors, hoping Hermione would enter. Weasley had appeared. Draco was glad to see him clutching Loony's hand rather than Hermione's, but at the same time it amplified his concern over where she could be.

Mainly to give himself something to do, he filled a punch cup. He was migrating back toward the door when Alice entered in a light blue dress on the arm of a brown haired sixth year wearing royal blue. The boy detached himself to make his own pass at the refreshment table, and Draco took the opportunity to tease Alice.

"You're here with Nicholas Horne?"

Alice answered in a fast, defensive, and very quiet voice. "He's cute, and he asked me, and I don't want to hear it. It's just a stupid dance, and we're all going to die anyway, so I don't see what it matters."

Draco took his third cousin by her shoulders and told her in an equally soft but much calmer whisper, "Alice, we're not all going to die. Voldemort might not even come. And if he does, Potter will defeat him just like always."

"Do you really think Potter can do it?"

"Yes, I do. More than that, I think we can do it. So just relax, take a deep breath, and go enjoy your dance."

Draco knew Alice was truly frightened because she hugged him. He wrapped his arms around her shoulders before sending her off after Nicholas.

It seemed like everyone had a partner except him, Draco thought as he nursed his punch. And Potter. Draco considered joining Harry for a moment, but if Ginny Weasley could not get Potter to dance, Draco doubted he wanted his company.

A few minutes after she finished speaking to Harry, Ginny had her arms around Dean Thomas on the dance floor. Draco watched them enviously. He had never understood the appeal of redheads, but it was clear that Dean did. Ginny's radiant smile was outshining her freckles. Draco had to admit she was rather pretty...for a Weasley.

Even Eloise Midgen had fought down her acne, and Crabbe was engaging her in conversation. Draco would have applauded him if he was not preoccupied by his own lack of a conversational partner. People were giving him curious or even sympathetic looks. Where _was_ Hermione?

Draco was wondering if he should try calling her on the mirror tucked away in his other pocket. He had gotten to help Hermione on that project in the end. They had networked together twenty four mirrors (one for each of the prefects excepting Pansy and adding Potter) using a variation on the Protean Charm. All he had to do was speak her name into it. But they were only supposed to use those mirrors when necessary. The magic on them had its limits, and it was important to keep their existence secret from the Death Eaters. The last thing he wanted tonight was to give Hermione a reason to be disappointed in him.

He was biting back his tenth sigh when he finally spotted her making her way through the crowd. He smiled. She was dressed in green, soft and elegant. Her hair was not sleeked down but full and bushy as ever. A simple locket graced her neck. Draco doubted it was real silver. Knowing Hermione it was probably holding a small dose of some potentially useful powder or potion.

"I'm sorry I'm late," she said briskly as though to stave of criticism.

"I was starting to think you stood me up," Draco admitted, sounding far more nervous and relieved than he had intended.

"I had to convince the house-elves to let us put potions in the refreshments," she explained. "They were very skeptical at first, but Dobby helped me-what?"

"You look beautiful."

"Thank you," Hermione said doubtfully. "I didn't have time to do anything with my hair."

"I like your hair," Draco said. He did something he had never dared before and touched it. He took a handful of the soft mass and felt Hermione stiffen. Her surprised expression was tinged with fear. Not that he would hurt her, Draco was pretty certain that Hermione knew by now he had no intention of hurting her, but that her perfect resolve might slip, that she might let him let him through her armor if he kept this up, that she might be starting to feel the same attraction for him that he did for her.

Draco thought he could have spent the entire evening with his fingers tangled in Hermione's hair and consider the time well spent, but he did not want to lose his advantage. "Do you want to dance?" he asked. He disengaged his hand from her hair and held it out for her to take.

Hermione looked at it uncertainly. Draco pretending not to notice as her own hand went to her stomach. "I brought gloves, if you need them," he said lightly.

Hermione flushed and sounded embarrassed. "No, no, I don't need them." She put her hand on his. Draco did not betray the rush he received at her touch, though he thought her hand in his would not be a bad way to spend the evening either. He laced his fingers with hers and lead her towards the dance floor.

They were intercepted by Pansy. "Oh, hello, Granger," she said sweetly. "I was starting to wonder if you had decided not to come. Draco would have been ever so disappointed."

"What do you want, Pansy?" Draco asked coldly.

"Nothing," Pansy said. "I just thought it was time to let bygones be bygones. In retrospect, I can understand why Draco felt a need to hide his interest in you, but really, he was silly to think his friends wouldn't support him. We're all very attached to him. And he if thinks you're all right, then so do we."

Hermione was nonplussed, but she tried to force a smile. "Um..."

Pansy's eyes fell on the punch cup in Draco's other hand. He had been looking for a place to set it down. "Now, Draco, don't tell me you're neglecting your date. Here-" She held out one of the punch cups in her hand to Hermione. "I've lost Jonathan for the moment, but he's a big boy and can get his own. You should try it. It's very good punch."

Hermione accepted the drink. "Thanks."

Pansy smiled broadly. "Well, I best go find him. You both have a lovely time."

There was a moment of stunned silence after Pansy slipped off before Draco caught Hermione's eye. "You're not actually going to drink that, are you?"

Hermione smirked and cocked her eyebrow. "I thought we'd agreed that I'm not stupid," she said and dumped the contents into the bowl of a nearby the centerpiece. They left their empty cups on the table and moved to the dance floor.

"Where do you think Jonathan is?" Draco asked, silently thrilling that he had managed to keep hold of Hermione's hand.

"Probably hiding," said Hermione.

Draco chuckled as he placed a hand on Hermione's back. Her smile faltered, and she stiffened again, going oddly quiet. Draco repositioned their fingers so their hands were clasped lightly. He smiled genuinely now. This was something he could do well. Hermione was not bad, but he was clearly the stronger of the pair. She was making no effort to compete though and simply let him lead. She relaxed gradually and even smiled after the first song. The next song was faster. Draco tried trickier step work, but Hermione kept up.

This was bliss.

He was holding her, her hand in his, her hair gracing the knuckles of his other hand, and she was smiling, genuinely smiling now, as he lead her through a turn. Her eyes were on him and for these few, precious minutes he had her full attention.

A slower song followed, and Draco was more than...happy was not the right word. He was not unhappy. He was hyper aware. He had changed to more simple footwork and closed the distance between himself and Hermione. She did not protest. Her fingers had slid up his shoulder to lightly touch his neck. His eyes explored her features ever so much closer than normal. Hermione was looking at him differently. He could not be imagining it. She was watching him, dropping her eyes to his neck demurely now and again but her gaze crept back up to his face.

The song ended. Other couples broke apart to applaud the band, but Draco did not release Hermione. She did not push away. He did release her hand, bringing his own up to touch her hair on the pretense of pushing back wayward strands. The music started again, but they stayed still. He closed the distance between them slowly, titling his head, testing. She stayed frozen, her hand resting lightly on his elbow.

His pulse was alarmingly fast, and he seemed to have forgotten how to breath. His peripheral vision had gone fuzzy, and the music sounded like it was being played three rooms away. Two inches, an inch and a half.

"Don't," Hermione breathed.

Draco paused, confused. Then he felt a flush of anger. Hermione's eyes were on his mouth. Her lips parted beseechingly. His hand on her back told his she was breathing more deeply and quickly than necessary. Why would her words tell him one thing and her body another? It was not fair. It was cruel. He should ignore her weak protest and kiss her anyway. She would probably like it if she let him. She would have no right to be angry with him after leading him on. The stupid mudblood...

Draco shut his eyes against himself. She was asking him, requesting. Did he need her to beg? He had to decide if he was a prince or a dragon.

"I'm sorry," he said, stepping back to give her breathing room. He had promised her this was just a dance after all.

Hermione nodded, looking embarrassed but grateful, and not angry. Draco fought back the protests of his body and offered her his hand. He indicated the dance floor, and she silently took his hand, allowing him to lead her back to it. _I'm a prince,_ he told her silently.

It was nice just dancing after all. And what had he told Pansy? This was not necessarily the end. They were leaving school, but that was just the beginning of a whole new life. Maybe not kissing Hermione today meant she would be a part of his life tomorrow.

Provided they survived the night.

There was a murmur breaking out among the dancers. "He's coming!"

Draco and Hermione froze, for a few seconds they stood with their hands linked, looking around before they snapped into action.

Hermione raised her voice above the murmur. "Everyone get into your Houses. He's coming!"

Draco decided to lead by example and pulled out his wand. He used it to point at individuals and direct them towards their positions. The dancers moved slowly at first as though waking from a dream, but Draco had to admire how silently and efficiently most of the students were falling into place. He saw Laurel and Nott embrace before breaking apart to take their positions. He wished he had thought to hug Hermione, but no time now. He would have to hope for a chance later.

"Clear the stage!" Potter shouted. "Tonks, clear the stage! Get everyone away from the windows!"

Draco admired how quickly and decisively his cousin reacted. She had the band off the stage in a matter of seconds. The silence of the students was not a natural reaction of course. They had been drilled to be quiet so they could hear instructions.

Potter's magically amplified voice sounded across the room. "Space out so your wand's not pointed directly at anyone's back."

Draco saw Daphne grab Pansy around the waist. Daphne's wand was out and her face was serious, the magnitude of the situation must have settled upon her. Jonathan had reappeared and was quietly indicating that the girls find a place along the wall. Pansy, apparently wandless, was wide-eyed and uncomprehending, but Daphne pulled her towards the wall. "What's happening?" Pansy whimpered. Daphne held her firmly but protectively and whispered a response.

Draco had worked his way towards the front of the Slytherin column, he checked to see that the students were properly spaced behind him. He spotted Victoria as she slipped into the Great Hall and stood with the older Slytherins. He shot her a reproachful look but decided it was all for the best.

"Get ready," Potter called, and Draco turned to face the windows. "_REICIO_!"

Draco and the other prefects echoed Potter, creating a shield that should protect them from physical objects. It was put to the test a second later. The windows of the Great Hall shattered, pelting the shield with lethal looking glass shards. Some of the students lost their resolve and let out screams, but the shield held.

Six Death Eaters flew through the glassless windows. They set down amidst the unnatural silence that followed. Draco felt his lip twitch as he imagined their confusion.

"ONE!"

The count had been an ingenious little idea. The prefects had worked out the spell combinations together. By Hermione's insistence each house was ignorant of the spells the other houses were using. The Slytherins had the honor of delivering the first round of stunners. The Draco was pleased to see four of the Death Eaters drop. The Ravenclaws shot disarming spells, and the Gryffindors in the middle column cast another round of shielding charms, this one to guard against spells.

Unfortunately, the shields were not as effective as they may have hoped. One of the Ravenclaws, maybe Michael Corner, was knocked down by a spell one of the Death Eaters had managed to get off.

"TWO!"

"_RICTUSEMPRA!_" "_EXPELLIARMUS!_" "_STUPEFY!_"

"THREE!"

A third barrage knocked out the last of the first six Death Eaters. Before anyone could feel cocky, five more entered to replace them.

"FOUR!"

Draco recognized Lord Voldemort as the center of this new group. He did not feel the same rush of fear that he had on Halloween, though. He was not alone now. He was ready.

"RETREAT!"

Draco grimaced. They had drilled up through seven numbered spells, and he would have liked to go through the whole list. The retreat had been planned as well though, and it was an impressive sight. Draco's Patronus still did not have the good grace to be corporeal, but he had to admit that Goyle's ox was bloody impressive and Granger's otter irreverently adorable. The sight of it scampering around Lord Voldemort's feet was oddly satisfying.

Draco doubted the Dark Lord took any notice. The teachers had entered the fray now, as the students began bottle necking at the doors of the Great Hall. Voldemort had obviously surrounded himself with his best duelists. They were targeting the teachers first and ignoring the students. Voldemort's eyes were only for Harry, but as he raised his wand, Myrtle flew in his face and began raging at him. Draco watched Harry disappear under the invisibility cloak.

Voldemort sent Myrtle flying and took a step forward. Draco held his breath. _Good, good_, he thought. _Follow Harry_.

Voldemort paused however, eyeing the sea of students distastefully. He slashed his wand through the air. A hundred knives appeared and launched themselves at the students that had been trapped by the bottleneck. A booming "_REICIO_!" rang through the air. It was Snape. The Death Eaters had ignored him, probably assuming that he was a student, but the school enchantments amplified Snape's spell a hundred fold, creating a barrier that blocked the deadly projectiles.

Draco shot a few Reductor Curses at the fallen knives, so they could not be used again. Voldemort, angry that he had failed, sent out another barrage. Draco joined Snape in casting the shield this time. It was mostly effective, but Snape had been off just enough to let a few slip through. Pansy and Daphne scream as a knife narrowly missed their heads. Severus was not so lucky. To Draco's horror, he took a knife in the gut and was hurled back by the force of it.

Satisfied, that he had finally made his point, Voldemort strode forward with a look that dared anyone else to stand against him. "Get out of his way!" Draco screamed at the students blocking the door. They scrambled to comply, and Voldemort chose to ignore them as he passed.

Draco hurried to Snape's side as Voldemort passed out of the room and looked around wildly. "Longbottom!" he screamed catching sight of Neville. Neville wheeled around and ran over. "Help him!" Draco pleaded, cursing himself for not attending one of Pomfrey's sessions. He had been so busy.

Neville was just kneeling down to tend to Snape when a manticore burst out from beneath the refreshment table. Everyone remaining in the room screamed, except perhaps Snape, whose eyes were shut against the pain, and Draco, who knew that the manticore was Kagome. The manticore however tore out of the room after Voldemort. No one tried to stop it.

"Breath," Draco told Neville, who looked like he might hyperventilate. "It's on our side." Neville gave Draco an astounded look. "You have to help him." Neville looked back down at Snape and composed himself. He worked quickly. Using magic to remove the knife and conjuring bandages to staunch the blood flow.

"He's going to need more than I can do," Neville said grimly. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small vial. "Give him this. It will help."

Draco took the vial. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Persephone crawl out from under the refreshment table. It had been her job to release Kagome at the right time. Her eyes widened with horror when she caught sight of Snape, and she scrambled over to kneel with them on the floor.

"Here, give him this," Draco said, handing Persephone the vial.

Persephone took it and nudged around to lift Snape's head. "Severus, you have to drink this." She lifted the vial to Snape's lips. He grunted with the movement but managed to swallow. Longbottom leapt to his feet, his wand pointed at the windows. Draco turned his head and realized more Death Eaters had entered. The teachers and a few students were engaging them, but one of them had slipped past and was stalking towards them. The Death Eater knocked Neville back with a stunner. He turned his wand on Draco, but by that time, Draco was on his feet and had his wand leveled.

"Lower your wand," the Death Eater ordered him smoothly, almost gently. Even before he had pulled back his mask, Draco knew he was facing his father.

"No," Draco said with enough resolve to surprise himself.

"We don't have time to play games, Draco," Lucius said as he closed the distance between them.

"I'm not playing," Draco said, and Lucius stopped short.

His father's grey eyes flickered briefly across the Great Hall and back to Draco, putting the pieces together. "This was a trap?" Draco said nothing, and his father's face grew angry. He spoke in glacial tones. "You've betrayed us."

"No, father. You betrayed me."

His father stared at him nonplussed.

"_You brought him into our lives! Our home!_"

The anger was gone now. There was the faintest hint of regret in his father's eyes, but Draco did not think it was enough to make him change. "I did what I thought was best," he said coolly.

"So did I."

There were only a few feet between them, but Draco felt as though he was staring at his father across a great void. It might be easier if he could hate his father, because he could not. He loved his father. He wanted to believe his father loved him. But he could not support what his father was doing anymore. He hated the mask and the robes and the tattoo and all the other things binding his father to Voldemort. But those things were not his father, those were things holding his father prisoner.

He wanted to tell Lucius this, but he did not think he would be able to make him understand. His wand hand was trembling.

"I don't have time for this-"

"Lucius!" Persephone's cry interrupted him.

Lucius finally became aware of the two figures on the floor. "Persephone?" Draco vaguely realized how surreal a moment it had to be for his father. These two ghosts of his youth staring back up at him. Persephone's tearful silver eyes were holding back volumes. Snape's eyes were narrowed and distrustful but curious. Draco realized they were providing him with the perfect distraction.

"Stupe-"

But Lucius was too alert. He turned back to Draco, swiftly casting the counter curse.

"_Petrificus Totalus_!" Persephone's spell hit Lucius in the back. Draco watched his father fall to the ground. He stunned him to make sure he was out of the fight. Snape's eyes had closed. Persephone laid his head down gently. She exchanged looks with Draco, and he could tell she had the same idea that she did.

Using a combination of levitation and old-fashioned heaving, they stashed Lucius in the trunk that had held Persephone. Draco added an enchanted sleep to the stun, and they locked trunk magically. Draco hoped this meant Lucius was effectively out of the fight and out of harm's way. As a last measure, he snapped his father's wand into three pieces and stuffed them into his pocket.

The Great Hall had thinned considerably by the time they were done. Between the Death Eaters, the teachers, and the students, there were less than twenty left fighting. Most had fled. A few like Neville, lay unconscious on the floor.

Draco ennervated Neville, who rolled woozily onto his side, then returned his attention back to Snape. "Is he conscious?"

"Unfortunately," Snape muttered, opening his eyes.

"We have to get him to the hospital wing," Persephone said. Draco knew better than to argue with her. He helped her get Snape to his feet. Snape hung on their shoulders, but the potion must have done its work because his legs held.

"Oh, no," Longbottom moaned behind them. Draco did not have to look up to know what was coming this time. The cold chill that heralded a dementor was creeping into his bones. The broken window allowed the living nightmares to swoop inside. Draco felt as though an icy fist was clenching his heart. Snape tensed and jerked his arm off Draco's shoulder.

"_EXPECTO PATRONUM!_" Snape shouted. A fully formed Patronus, amplified by the school magic that still recognized Snape as a professor burst from his wand and swooped down on the dementors. It beat them back, chasing them through the window and out into the night.

With the dementors gone, Draco was able to let a smile tug at his lips. "Was that a butterfly?" Draco asked Snape innocently, and Snape glared at him. Draco turned away to hide a broader smile. The thing had been gigantic, but the form was unmistakable. He turned back to find Persephone looking up at Snape with pure delight and admiration and Snape blushing furiously.

The two remaining Death Eaters had jumped on their brooms when the dementors fled. Flitwick and the Muggle Studies Professor borrowed brooms from the unconscious Death Eaters and tore after them. Professor Sinistra had a bad limp, and Firenze was helping her towards the door. Longbottom went to intercept them. "We're using the hospital wing as a fall back point," he explained.

Sinistra shot them all an accusatory look, but Firenze was indifferent as though the events of the evening were unfortunate but to be expected. "Hospital wing?" Draco suggested.

Firenze nodded. Neville conjured a splint to take the pressure off Sinistra's leg, and the lot of them hobbled out of the Great Hall. There were several students lying in the entry hall. Draco hoped they had simply been stunned.

"Longbottom, you help Professor Sinistra. Firenze, would you try to summon the Ministry?"

"I can manage," Sinistra said irritably. "I'm going to stick with Firenze. He hasn't got a wand. You three get Severus some help." She touched Snape's forehead as though checking for a fever, then turned and stalked off down a hall with Firenze.

"We've got to—for pity's sake, Longbottom!" Draco groaned. Neville was attempting to ennervate some of the students. Two of them were groggily pushing themselves up.

"We can't leave them!" Neville growled as he helped Lavender Brown to her feet.

"They're-" But Draco was cut off by a small troupe rounding the corner. It was Victoria and a small cloud of sixth year girls.

"We decided to try to hold the Great Hall," Chesann explained.

"I'll help," volunteered the second student that Neville had revived.

Loony of all people came to Draco's aide. "Neville, why don't you and Lavender help them get to the hospital wing. It looks like Professor Snape has lost a lot of blood." Neville seemed less apt to argue with Luna than with Draco.

He and Lavender charged up the marble staircase with their wands drawn. Draco let Persephone lean on the rail as the two of them helped Snape up. Luna was right. Snape did look frighteningly pale, even for him.

They had only gone a little ways when Neville held up a hand for them to stop. "_Death Eaters_," he mouthed. Draco jabbed his wand at a classroom door, and they all hurried inside. He had no idea how long they would need to hide, so he and Persephone laid Snape out on one of the tables. Persephone smoothed the hair back from his face, one of her hands clenched in his. Neville was giving them a curious look, but Draco indicated that he would do better to watch the door.

Then Draco noticed a pendant on a long chain that had slipped out from under Snape's robes when they laid him back. "What's that?" he asked. Snape did not strike him as the sort to wear jewelry.

"Time Turner," Snape grunted. "McGonagall got it for me, so I'd have time to study for the exams and teach all the classes."

Draco eyed the pendant, his mind slowly clicking out ideas. Snape put his free hand over it protectively and shot Draco a look that said '_Don't think about it'_. To remove himself from temptation, Draco walked over to Neville. "Any sign of them?" he whispered.

"No," Neville said. "I think they were going the other way. Towards the hospital wing."

"Lovely."

"Think we ought to just sit tight for a moment?"

"You knew, didn't you? Why didn't you tell me?" Draco heard Snape's voice speaking softly to Persephone.

"I'm sorry," Perspehone murmured back. "Harry had this whole big plan, and it was important the teachers didn't know. I'm such a dolt. I should have told you earlier this evening. Do you forgive me?" She had his hand clutched against her cheek, and Snape uncurled his fingers to touch it with his knuckles.

"Where's Potter?" Snape ask as he coiled his fingers.

"He was going to try to lure Voldemort to Classroom Eleven," Draco supplied.

"Why Classroom Eleven?" Lavender asked.

"He thought the trees would make for good cover."

Snape sat up, inhaling sharply. "There are trees in classroom eleven? Why are there trees?" he asked in a panicked voice.

"Hush, hush. Lay back down," Peresphone pleaded, but Snape would not. "They fixed up that classroom for Firenze. It looks like a lovely bit of forest, nothing sinister. Please lay back down."

"And Potter's there?"

"Hopefully," Draco said, frowning with confusion.

"That idiot," Snape muttered, as he finally let Persephone ease him back onto the table.

"It's okay," she soothed. "He's got a plan." Snape seemed lost in thought. Persephone dropped his hand and joined the group by the door.

"How long do you think we should wait?"

"I don't know. I suppose one of us should go out and check."

"Two of us."

"We may as well all go then."

"Oh bloody—" Draco had turned to check on Snape just in time to see him raise the Time Turner and vanish.

"No!" Persephone cried. She ran to where Snape had been as though she could catch him.

"He vanished," Lavender said, and Draco bit back a sharp retort.

"Suicidal git," he muttered. "When do you think he went? He wouldn't try warning himself, would he?"

Persephone shook her head. "No, he's not that stupid." She looked around wide eyed but did not seem to be taking anything in. "I think I know where he went." She ran to the door and flung it open, before they could stop her.

Draco did manage to grab her arm. "Where-?"

"You three get to the hospital wing," she ordered. "I have to get Severus."

"I'll come with you."

"No, I'll be fine," Persephone said calmly. "They need you in the hospital wing. Go now. I need to get Severus."

Neville and Lavender decided there was no point standing in the door any longer and started edging towards the next corridor. "Persephone, you can't run off by yourself. We have to stick to the plan."

Persephone touched his cheek gently. "You stick to it. You have to understand. Nothing matters to me more than Severus. I can only think of him. You have to think about everyone else. You have to clear the way to the hospital wing."

Draco let her go, knowing it would be useless to argue. "Be careful," he muttered before running after Brown and Longbottom.

o

* * *

o

Draco, Neville, and Lavender hurried down the corridors towards the hospital wing. They skidded to a halt behind a makeshift barricade barring the hall. Crabbe, Goyle, Millicent, and Indigo were hurling spells at three black robed figures. The barricade was comprised of four suits of armor crouched with their shields held in front of them.

Draco nearly tripped over Blaise who was sprawled out on the floor. Somehow he managed to leap over him. He thrust out his wand and shouted, "ONE!"

The Death Eaters dropped under the unified volley of stunning spells.

"Get their wands," he ordered. Deciding it was worth a shot, he added. "Armor, forward!" To his pleasant surprise, the suits of armor stood and march forward in a line. He shook his head with wonder and looked down at Blaise. "What happened to him?"

"A stunner, I think," Indigo said nervously, crouching over Blaise.

"_Ennervate_," Draco tried. Blaise twitched only briefly and lay still. Draco grimaced. "Something more than a stunner. We may have to leave him."

Tears sprung into Indigo's eyes.

"We'll come back for him, but we have to secure the hospital wing."

"What if more come?" Indigo whimpered.

"He's pureblood and unconscious. They'll probably leave him alone."

Indigo shook her head. "That's just it. He's a half-blood. If they find him..."

Draco's mind whirred. Trying to drag Blaise along would slow them down, and they might need to run. "Armor, halt! Crabbe, tie up the Death Eaters and take their wands! Wait for us." He pointed to the nearest door. "In there."

He cast a feather light charm on Blaise, and he and Indigo maneuvered him into the room. Not having a lot of options, they stuffed him into a cabinet. Indigo tried to adjust Blaise so that he would be comfortable. Draco closed the doors. It was a decent hiding place.

They ran back into the hall. "Come on," Draco called to the others as he ran past them. "Armor, forward to the hospital wing!" The armor progressed, but it was slow and clunking. They soon left it behind.

Almost there, Draco turned the last corner to the hospital wing and jumped back. Indigo knocked into him, but he managed to stay on his feet. "Sorry," she gasped. Draco motioned for the others to stop. "_Four of them_," he mouthed. He dug the mirror out of his pocket. "Anastasia Case," he whispered.

Anastasia's face appeared. "Kinda busy, Malfoy," she muttered.

"Where are you?"

"Inside the hospital wing. Got Death Eaters at our door, trying to hold them shut."

"I see them," Draco murmured. "We're just outside. How many do you have in there?"

"Maybe fifteen."

"Any prefects?"

"Just Aaron."

"Okay, in five minutes I want you to open the doors."

"What?" Draco was glad the Death Eaters were making a fair amount of noise in their attempt to break through the doors.

"Five minutes exactly. Call you back."

Draco ignored further noises of protest and questions of his mental health. "Jules Parson," he tried. A sixth year Hufflepuff replaced Anastasia.

"Here," he huffed.

"Where's here?"

"Um, we got cut off from the hospital wing. We were coming from the north angle. Trying to figure out if we should fight our way through or retreat to the library."

Draco had a pretty good idea where they were. "Can you be back at the hospital wing in two minutes?"

"One if you need us."

"How many of you are there?"

"Eight."

"Perfect. In exactly one minute from now, I want you to you back at the hospital wing, hurling hexes. We're on the other side. We'll try to catch them in a crossfire."

"Right on our way," said Jules.

His reflection vanished, leaving Draco's own. Draco angled the mirror around the corner to check that the Death Eaters were still at it. He mouthed instructions at the others, keeping one eye on his watch. When the minute was up, they charged around the corner. Half of them cast protection spells while the other half slung spells at the Death Eaters.

From the other side of the hall, two seconds behind, Parson and his group rounded the corner with a war cry. Three of the Death Eaters went down quickly. The last one put up a terrific fight. With his back against the hospital wing doors, he managed to send the students' curses back at them, knocking down two and taking a big chunk out of one of the walls. He was just starting to look cocky, when the doors of the hospital wing opened behind him. The barrage of stunners from the fifteen students within knocked him flat.

"Inside! Inside!" Draco ordered, trying to make himself heard over the victory cry of the other students. The approach of clanking footsteps signaled that the armor had finally arrived. Draco had the armor set up guard around the doors. He put about ten students outside the doors with them and left the doors open just enough for a single person to slip through.

A pounding of feet up the stairs, announced the arrival of Weasley, Granger and their party. They seemed to be having something of a running battle. "INCOMING!" Weasley yelled as he topped the stairs. Draco sent the defenders forward. They rushed to the rail and sent spells down at the Death Eaters who had been chasing the Gryffindors.

"They're down!" Crabbe announced to Draco as Hermione's bushy head came in view. Draco ushered the Gryffindors inside, but Hermione clung onto his arm as they passed.

"Where'd the armor come from?" she panted.

"Built in school defense we didn't consider, I think," Draco said. "Gather up the unconscious Death Eaters. Get their wands and tie them up. We'll dump them just outside the door here."

"Mm, you're really enjoying this, aren't you?" Hermione said giving him a shrewd look.

"Oh, yeah," Draco panted. "We should do this every day."

Hermione grinned and went to collect the Death Eaters' wands.

o

* * *

o

Four Ravenclaws appeared shortly after. They had taken the long way and managed to avoid running into any resistance. Draco was just getting the last of them through the gap when a loud whoop rose from inside the hospital wing.

Draco pushed his way inside in time to hear Weasley announce. "It's Harry. He's fine. He's done it."

"Thank goodness," Hermione said.

"Is that Hermione?" Potter's voice came from Weasley's palm.

"Yeah," Weasley said. "She's here with me. We're at the hospital wing. Where are you?"

"First floor," Potter said. "I'm heading toward the Great Hall."

"We'll come to you." Draco was hoping to catch Hermione's eye and exchange looks, but she was nodding.

Potter seemed to share Draco's view of things. "No, you stay put. You have to hold the hospital wing."

"Malfoy's got it under control," Weasley said, shocking Draco. "We'll meet you at the Great Hall."

"Weasley, don't you—!" But the tall, freckled fellow had pocketed his mirror.

"Potter's right," Draco said, putting himself between Ron, Hermione, and the exit. "We have to hold the hospital wing."

"We've got full confidence in you." "Know you've got it covered." They split to walk around him on either side, making it impossible to block both.

Draco gave up. "Watch yourself!" he called after them.

A few minutes later Potter's voice issued from his own pocket. "Draco Malfoy."

Draco pulled the mirror out. "I'm here. Hospital wing's under control at the moment."

"Persephone's on her way up with Snape," Potter said quickly. "They're under the invisibility cloak, so make sure no one stuns them by mistake."

"Gotcha."

"Check in on all the fifth year perfects for me. Call me back only if one of them is having a problem."

"Right," Draco said. What he had heard earlier was finally sinking in. "Weasley said you got Voldemort. Is it true?"

"It's true," Harry said.

Draco stared at the part of Potter's face visible in the mirror. "Thanks," he said lamely. Potter's face vanished, and Draco decided it was time to make a proper announcement. "HE'S DEAD! VOLDEMORT'S DEAD!" The students cheered. Madam Pomfrey clutched her heart and sat down on one of the beds.

Draco checked on the fifth year prefects. The Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs were sitting tight and waiting. The Gryffindors were only having trouble keeping the younger students in the dorm once they figured out what was going on. Two Death Eaters had managed to break into the Slytherin common room and soon regretted it. Draco did not ask for too many details.

A few more student groups showed up, some of them with injuries. It was lucky that Potter had warned them. Persephone had somehow managed to cover both Snape and herself with Potter's invisibility cloak. They were riding a levitated stretcher, and she seemed to appear out of thin air when she jumped off a few feet from the armor guard. Draco had too many questions to even try to put them into words, so he simply helped her get the unconscious Snape onto a bed.

They exchanged stories while Madam Pomfrey fussed over Snape.

The students by the windows were nervously watching a cloud of dementors pass by. It was too dark to see clearly, but flashes of light from cast spells implied that there was a fair number of wizards fighting on the castle grounds.

Draco tired of listening to the reports of giants and stuck his head back out in the hall. He saw Tonks' pink hair round the corner with two serious looking wizards trailing behind her.

"Aurors are coming!" Draco shouted back into the room. As he turned back around, a stunner hit the door just past his head. He gave out a startled yelp. "What the hell?"

"Dawlish, you idiot! He's on our side."

"What? The Malfoy kid?"

"No, the unconscious Death Eaters at his feet," Tonks said sarcastically. "Yes, the Malfoy kid. You okay, Draco?"

"Yeah, I'm all right."

"Nice work," Tonks complimented them. "Okay kiddies, all of you inside."

The others were grudging, but Draco was all too ready to take a break. He dropped into a chair besides Snape's bed. Persephone was smoothing Snape's hair in a motherly fashion. "You all right?"

"Fine," Draco said wearily.

"What is it?"

"Wondering what's going to happen to my father," he admitted. Draco was trying to fix the image of his mind of Lucius in his Death Eater's robes, coldly watching the murder of Evra Tomes, but it would not stick. He had too many other memories. Memories of his father reading to him, holding him close when he was little, playing Quidditch when he was older, and talking, so many times when they just talked. "It makes me sick to think of him prison."

Persephone swallowed, and he knew she was the only one who would have any sympathy for Lucius. She stroked Snape's hair again and trailed her hand down his neck to the chain that held the Time Turner. Draco twitched. What was she up to? Persephone lifted Snape's head gently and pulled the Time Turner off his neck. She placed it around hers and tucked it away beneath her robes.

"What-?"

"Shh."

Indigo nearly pounced on Draco. "What about Blaise? He's hurt!"

"Er…"

"We'll go fetch him," Persephone said, getting to her feet. "Come on, Draco."

Draco got to his feet. "Just the two of us?"

"We can't fit anymore under the invisibility cloak. Particular not after we have Blaise."

"You will go get him, won't you?" Indigo asked Draco piteously.

"Go distract the Aurors," Draco muttered to her, and Indigo hurried towards the door. Draco took a few quick steps to tell Anastasia, "We're going to fetch Blaise. Think you can hold down the fort?"

Anastasia nodded absently. Her attention was drawn towards the windows.

Indigo was already outside, asking the Aurors nervous questions. Draco and Persephone wrapped the invisibility cloak around them and carefully slipped out into the hall.

When they were a safe distance away, Draco whispered to Persephone. "What are we actually doing?"

"We're going to rescue, Lucius," she whispered back. For some reason Draco was not surprised.

"What about Blaise?"

"That's what the Time Turner is for."

Draco decided not to ask any more questions. He knew what getting caught would mean. Besides the fact Hermione would never speak to him again, he and Persephone might earn their own little spot in Azkaban. Weasley would be delighted, but Draco thought of several others who would not take it so well. The thought of Potter's reaction was the only thing that made him consider giving up the enterprise. But Voldemort was dead. What good was it to free his father from that chain only to lock him in others? Once the dust had settled, they would arrest his mother too. A sick weight settled in Draco's stomach at the thought of her in chains.

They crept into the Great Hall and hid under the table with Lucius's trunk. They waited for a long time, probably hours, before the sounds of battle began to die down. Persephone fell asleep on Draco's shoulder. Draco wished he could be that relaxed. He was feeling weary but too anxious to close his eyes. At about three a.m., he nudged Persephone awake. There had been a loud groan he could only associate with the front doors of the castle being opened. Aurors came in to investigate the statues of Death Eaters that had appeared in the Great Hall. They began levitating them out.

Draco saw an opportunity. He used his wand to levitate the trunk and pushed it forward as he and Persephone huddled under the invisibility cloak behind it. They followed one of the streams of Aurors removing people and things from the castle. There was another stream bringing the wounded inside.

Once they were out of the castle, Draco and Persephone nudged the trunk out the gates, which had been broken open and lay crumpled and twisted to either side. "Giants," Draco murmured. They pushed Lucius's trunk up a rise. Dawn had begun to break when they felt they had put enough space between them and the castle.

The trunk made a soft, squishy noise as it settled on the dewy grass. Draco made Persephone stand a good seven feet back, before he unlocked the magical bonds that held his father. "Get up," he said hoarsely. His hood and mask had fallen away in the trunk, his black robes were twisted and crinkled, and his muscles obviously stiff, but Draco thought his father looked oddly majestic rising with the gold and crimson sky behind him.

Draco kept his wand trained steadily on Lucius. Persephone had hers in hand but was letting it hang at her side. Draco kept one foot in front of her in case his father tried anything.

His father however simply stepped out of the trunk onto the damp grass. "You can put your wand away," he said soothingly.

"I'm not stupid," Draco said.

"Do you really think I would attack you?" Lucius asked.

Draco did not answer.

His father's eye wandered off him and onto Persephone. From the sniff that came from his right, Draco knew she was nearly in tears. "Oh, Lucius…"

"Persephone, it's good to see you alive," his father said stiffly. "Assuming you're actually her. You look just as I remember."

"Oh, Lucius, how could you?" Persephone gasped.

"How could you?" Lucius answered coldly, but he could not remain unaffected. Draco watched something almost like guilt creep into Lucius's features. "Time's changed. You couldn't know the power he had gathered. I had to look after my family. To refuse the Dark Lord's summons was to invite death on them."

"Well, good news then," Draco said flatly. "Voldemort's dead. You're free."

"Dead?"

"Potter killed him. Properly this time. You picked the losing side, father." Draco felt his eyes sting, but he refused to let tears cloud his vision.

His father's eyes searched his face, looking for signs that Draco was lying, but there was nothing for him to find. "Why then am I not in the hands of the Ministry?"

"We couldn't," Persephone said sadly. "We had to stop you, Lucius. We had to! But we couldn't-"

"You're getting a second chance," Draco said. "There's no doubt the Ministry will be after you once things settled down here. I suggest you go warn mother. Maybe leave the country."

"Not the most appealing option," Lucius said dryly.

"Would prefer Azkaban?" Draco snapped.

His father shuddered slightly. "No, no, I wouldn't. I suppose I have no choice but to take you up on your offer." Draco wanted to hug his father, to say goodbye properly, but he did not dare. His father could have quite the temper when things did not go his way, and he had just suffered a severe shock. The mask of calm Lucius wore was not always a good indication of what was going on underneath. "I don't suppose you have my wand?"

"I may."

Lucius gave him a thin smile. "May I have it back?"

Draco nodded. He slipped his hand into his pocket and handed his father the broken pieces. His father's grey eyes widened as he stared at them. "You snapped my wand?"

"I said I wasn't stupid."

Lucius stared at Draco as though he had not seen him properly in a long time.

"You should go now," Persephone interrupted.

"I don't suppose you'll tell me where you've been all this time?" Lucius asked.

"Closer than you know," Persephone said. "But I can't say more than that."

"That's hardly an adequate explanation after-," Lucius began impatiently.

"It will have to do," Draco cut him off. "You should leave now before we're noticed. I'm trusting you to take care of mother. I will have to testify against you, if you're caught."

Lucius jerked as though Draco had struck him, but at the same time, Draco could see that he understood the urgency.

"Goodbye, Draco," his father said.

"Goodbye."

And Lucius Disapparated.

o

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o

Under the invisibility cloak, Draco and Persephone snuck back to the room where they had left Blaise. There they used the Time Turner, and traveled back several hours. A check of Draco's watch had allowed them to time things well. They listened to the hall outside until they heard bodiless footsteps that match their own. When they were sure their past selves had gone, they retrieved Blaise. A second application of the ennervate spell caused Blaise to resume a groggy consciousness. They half carried him back to the hospital wing. Indigo ran forward to embrace Blaise as they approached. He woke up for that. Draco's pink haired cousin gaped and irritably ordered them back inside.

They were only too happy to obey. With Draco standing close to shield what she was doing, Persephone slipped the Time Turner around Snape's neck and tucked it into this robes. Draco was glad Severus was unconscious, as he doubted he would approve of what they had just done. Draco was not so sure he approved of himself.

He was so tired that he barely noticed what was going on around him. He managed to coordinate and give directions with an automatic detachment. He knew by morning the Aurors would have the upper hand.

Eventually Potter arrived with a large group. He caught sight of Draco rubbing his eyes and gave a dry laugh, "Yeah, me to."

After a few hours they had rounded up all the wounded, and what was left of Voldemort's forces were retreating. Weasley was consoling Hermione over the death of her cat, but Draco could not drag up enough energy to be jealous. The two were friends after all. He was just glad Hermione was alive. Pansy had survived the night, but the Aurors had taken her off for questioning. They had wanted to question him too, but Dumbledore had told them to leave him alone until he had gotten a little sleep.

Decent fellow sometimes, Dumbledore.

Draco had sat down to catch his breath and drifted off for a few minutes. He woke up again in time to see the sunrise for the second time. As the gold and red light poured through the tall windows, Draco found himself reflecting that it was good to see a new day finally come.


	22. The Last Train Ride

**Disclaimer:** This story is based on the Harry Potter novels written by J.K. Rowling. All characters created by J.K. Rowling are owned by J.K. Rowling. The few characters created by me (i.e. Persephone, Hotchet, Kagome…) belong to me, but are available for use in other fics as long as I get credited as their creator. None of us are making any money off this and no infringement is intended.

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**Level 1.10: The Last Train Ride**

The Goblins had been responsible for the large flash of light. No one at the Ministry was ever able to puzzle out what spell they had used, but it had knocked out all the remaining giants. The dementors had slinked away as dawn broke. Luna had been disappointed. Her research group had worked out a theory of how to deconstruct them. Unfortunately, the process took a good hour, and no one had figured out how to make one hold still for that long. A handful of Death Eaters had escaped, but the Ministry managed to round up most of them.

Harry finally understood why the Ministry had had so much trouble sorting out the Death Eaters the first time around. With Voldemort dead, the dark mark had vanished.

The skull masks and cloaks however had not, and there were plenty of witnesses for those who remained.

The Ministry was having a bit of trouble deciding what to do with the Death Eaters who had been turned to stone. Victoria had developed a lapse of memory as to the counter curse. No one was too fussed about it, but there seemed to be a bit of a debate as to whether it was worth the effort to haul the statues to Azkaban or if they should simply be kept in the Ministry in London until they could be returned to normal and fit to stand trial.

Shortly after dawn, the students were sent to the dormitories to make room in the hospital wing for the injured. Harry was anxious for news on how bad the casualties had been, but Professor McGonagall muscled him away. Harry did not make it as far as his bed. He, Ron, and Hermione had sat down in the Gryffindor common room to compare notes and passed out there.

Harry had woken to a sea of soft green and slowly realized his head on Hermione's lap. She was drooped over the arm of the sofa. On the opposite end, Ron was sprawled with his head resting on the back of the sofa. His mouth was hanging open and his nose pointed towards the ceiling. Harry lifted his head and noticed a couple of second year girls giggling quietly at them. He had meant to get up then, but he must have fallen back asleep. He woke up again, fully stretched out on the sofa, with Hermione and Ron gone.

He tried to leave the common room to get some news, but two Aurors had been posted at the door to keep students inside. Harry growled at them a bit, but he was not up for another fight. Before he could head back through the portrait hole, Tonks came to collect him.

They wanted to ask him questions of course. Dumbledore had brought all the important people, the Minister of Magic and the head of the Auror office among them, together so that Harry could explain to all of them at once. It still took hours and hours to answer all their questions. Harry got the impression that they were reluctant to believe that Voldemort was dead. He could not blame them for that. He had been there when it happened, and it still had not completely sunk in.

There were a few nervous minutes where they started talking about the legal ramifications of what Harry had done. Dumbledore stepped in to point out that Harry may have bent a few school rules, but he had done nothing illegal.

"Still, a boy dead, Dumbledore-"

"And an Auror too. But had the students not been so well prepared, I think we might have had many more deaths."

Harry tried to take comfort in Dumbledore's words, but he felt numb. Dean was dead. The worst was later, when he was alone with Dumbledore, and the Headmaster asked him why had not told the teachers.

"You would have tried to protect us," Harry said lamely.

Dumbledore had paused for a long time and finally said, "Well, it's done."

He sent Harry back to Gryffindor Tower, where Ron questioned him about his questioning. Hermione was uncharacteristically glum. She listened, slumped down in an armchair, staring at the low fire, but did not ask Harry anything. Harry wanted to say something to Ginny, but she had holed up in her dormitory. The other sixth year girls told him that it was better to leave her alone right now.

The next morning the Gryffindors were allowed to leave their tower for breakfast in the Great Hall. Everyone swarmed to swap stories with the other houses. No one seemed to care too much where they were sitting. Several Hufflepuffs, Ravenclaws, and Slytherins had clustered at the Gryffindor table in hopes of hearing Harry's account of things. He gave them a brief one, not enjoying all the stares, and demanded news before answering any questions. He learned from Chessann that Persephone was still in the hospital wing with Professor Snape.

Charles Bulstrode appeared to ask if he could have his wand back. He seemed pleased that his name had gotten laced in with Harry's story, even if his wand had not been as helpful as he might have hoped.

Students began disappearing as the day progressed. The story about the battle had been splashed all over the Daily Prophet, and many parents were coming to collect their children early. Aurors were still stationed about the castle and patrolling the grounds, but the remaining students were allowed to go outside. There was a giddy sort of energy among the younger students. They practically exploded onto the sunny grounds when the great front doors were open.

The elder students hung back to avoid being trampled.

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Harry along with Ron and Hermione went to visit Snape and Persephone in the hospital wing. Snape was propped up on pillows. Persephone was sitting beside the bed and had both of her hands wrapped around Snape's right as though she never intended to let go.

"How are you feeling?" asked Hermione.

"Like someone plunged a knife into my gut, then crucio-ed me," Snape said in what passed for a good humor with him. His black eyes examined Harry. "You?"

"I'm fine," Harry said and added when he sensed Snape's skepticism, "Physically." Snape only blinked in response, but he did not press further.

"I got permission to stay with Severus until Madam Pomfrey releases him," Persephone told Harry.

"What are you going to do once school is out?" asked Ron.

"We thought we'd go see my parents," Snape supplied.

Harry was surprised by that and not simply because Snape seemed confident that Persephone would be going with him. "You have parents?"

Snape fixed Harry with a look as though shocked by his idiocy. "Everyone has parents, Potter."

Harry felt a flush of embarrassment. "I meant. They're still alive?"

"Yes, they're alive. They disowned me after the Death Eater thing came out, but, as I've returned to myself at a point before the Dark Mark, I thought they might take me back. They're letting me visit at any rate. I think my mum's thrilled."

Hermione covered her mouth, and Harry had to admit there was something funny about hearing Snape talk about his mum.

"She likes me," Persephone teased gently.

"_Everybody_ likes you," Snape said bitterly. "She's had more visitors than I have." He closed his eyes with a pained look, but Harry thought he seemed pleased all the same. Persephone just smiled as though he had said something charming.

"Dean's funeral will be soon," Hermione told them. "I'm going to try to go if I can find out the details."

"Me too," Ron said solemnly.

"I'll come," said Harry.

"I didn't know Dean that well," Persephone said, giving Harry an anxious look.

"Don't worry about it," Harry told her.

"I hope it was quick," she said softly. "That he didn't feel any pain."

Harry swallowed down the lump in his throat. "Have you heard what's going to happen to Thomas and Victoria?" he asked to change the subject.

Persephone smiled and glanced at Snape who still had his eyes closed, feigning a headache. "Their mother wanted to take them back, but Severus made arrangements for them to go an orphanage. It was their choice. It's not ideal, but I think they'll be okay now. Victoria seemed pleased. Thomas actually smiled."

It took a little coaxing, but Harry got her to step away from Snape for a private chat. "Are you really going with him?"

Persephone smiled patiently. "Yes, we've waited a long time, both of us—What's wrong. Harry?"

"It's just…I've never had real family before, and now, you're leaving me for Snape."

Persephone's touched his arm. Her silver eyes glistened. "Oh, Harry, how can you say that? You have such a large family. You should hear how they talk about you. Dumbledore and Hagrid, Remus, Ron, Hermione, Ginny, and so many others. They love you so much. They adore you. Love is what makes a family, not bloodlines. I'm all Severus has right now, but you-you have a huge family. They've stuck by you for years, and they won't abandon you just cause you're leaving Hogwarts."

She hugged him and wiped her eyes. "Don't forget me though. I won't forget you," she squeezed Harry hand and returned to Snape's bedside.

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Harry and Ron agreed to help Hermione bury Crookshanks that afternoon. Hermione lined a small casket in which she gently placed her cat. Ron offered to carry it down the stairs, but Hermione seemed unwilling to release the box.

Malfoy was milling about in the entry hall. He approached them with his hands in his pockets. "Is that Crookshanks?" he asked.

Hermione nodded. "We're going to bury him."

"Can I come with you?" Draco asked.

In all honesty, Harry did not want Draco to come. Hermione did not look thrilled, but she was not in a cheerful mood to begin with. She nodded, giving Draco permission to join them..

The four of them walked down to the lake in silence. Hermione found a place. Harry and Ron cut out a section of dirt with their wands, while Draco gathered stones to mark the grave. Hermione kneeled beside the shallow grave, but she paused there so long that Ron took the casket from her hand and placed it in the hole. Hermione, who had been on the verge of tears the entire time, gave a gasp and began to cry in earnest. She turned from the grave and came to sob on Harry's shoulder. Harry patted her back, wondering how long this numb feeling would last. With a flick of his wand, Ron covered the grave with dirt. He stood back, staring at the site solemnly.

Harry looked at Draco who was crouching to the other side of the grave and was shocked to discover tears streaming down the blonde boy's face. It was then that he realized Hermione's sobs were not just for Crookshanks but for everything they had lost. He held her tightly, feeling cold for not crying with them. But he could not escape the knowledge that, besides Dean's death, they had gotten off easy. It could have been so much worse, and things might get better now.

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"_The magic we learn inside these halls is magic old and near_

_The home we've made inside these walls grows dearer year by year_

_Oh Hogwarts teach us, mold us, reach us, leave us the best of friends._

_Ravenclaw, Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, and Slytherin."_

The students gathered for the Leaving Feast applauded as Indigo Stump's soft, clear voice faded away. Her entry for the new school song had received the most votes and would be presented to the governors over the summer for consideration.

"Music," Dumbledore said to the room as Indigo took her seat. "Harmony. I think there is nothing more beautiful or more welcome. A single voice raised in song lightens the spirit, but a choir of hundreds joined in purpose is a wondrous thing to behold.

"If you take no other lesson home from this past year, I hope you will remember that we are strongest when we set aside our differences and work together. Let us raise our glasses together in memory of one who showed the courage of a true Gryffindor. To Dean Thomas."

"Dean Thomas," the students echoed.

Dumbledore kind smile was tinged with sadness. "The war is over. Voldemort is defeated. However I must urge you all to be on guard over the summer. It is my hope that his few supporters who escaped will be captured in short order, but we must learn the lessons of history and be cautious."

"To those who are leaving us for the last time, I wish you good fortune on your next great adventure."

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In the morning, the remaining students boarded the Hogwarts Express. Despite Hagrid's reassurances that he could visit, Harry knew he needed to resign himself to the idea that Hogwarts _had been_ his home, but it wasn't anymore.

He followed Ron and Hermione as they looked for an empty cabin, peeking in windows as he passed. Several students waved at him. People he barely knew came out of their cabins to clap his back or tell him how much they would miss seeing him. To Ron's amusement, a third year girl with pigtails attached herself to Harry's waist with a tight hug. At length he had to pry her off.

Harry saw Ginny sitting in a crowded cabin of sixth year girls. Chessann had her arm around Ginny's shoulders. Harry knew Ginny would stop crying in time, but it was still hard to see the tear tracks on her cheeks.

Seamus was not crying when they passed the cabin where he was sitting with Parvati, Neville, and Lavender, but Harry knew he was taking Dean's death just as hard as Ginny. Parvati was talking to him softly, though her words were lost behind the glass. Neville and Lavender were watching, silent and sympathetic, but Harry noticed their fingers were laced together. They stole a glance at each other, just before Harry decided to move on.

Ron, Hermione, and Harry found Luna sitting alone and joined her. She smiled and attached herself to Ron's arm as he took the seat beside her. "I think next year is going to be a little boring," she told them serenely. "It's going to be a little lonely without the D.A."

"Maybe you can keep it up," Ron suggested. "Not sure Dumbledore will let you get away with secret meetings anymore, but I'm sure he wouldn't mind a defense club."

"That's an idea," said Luna. "It's not like we'll need to plan a battle. Were the N.E.W.T.s bad?"

This subject carried them through the first several minutes while the train pulled away from the station. Ron was in the middle of recounting a rather exaggerated version of his Care of Magical Creatures practical, when Malfoy entered, looking sheepish. "Can I sit with you?"

"Sure," Harry said, though he regretted taking the window seat as Malfoy dropped into the seat next to Hermione.

"Don't you want to sit with your housemates?" asked Ron.

"I tried," Draco admitted. "But they wouldn't let me."

"You're father was one of the Death Eaters that got away. Wasn't he?" said Luna. Draco nodded.

"Wonder how he managed that," Ron said, his tone one of thinly veiled accusation.

"Seriously, Ron," Hermione snapped at him. "When did Draco have _time_ to get his father out of the castle?"

Ron thought for a moment. "Guess you're right," he said grudgingly. "Sorry."

"Forget it," said Draco. "The Aurors searched our manor but didn't find him or mother. I'm betting they fled the country."

Hermione patted his shoulder sympathetically. "None of the Slytherins will talk to you?"

"Blaise and Indigo invited me to sit with them, but that got awkward pretty quickly." Draco made a face and glanced down the corridor. "I left my trunk in there, I'll have to remember to get it later."

They played exploding snap to pass the time, talked about their career plans, and took turns patrolling the corridors. Draco wanted to skive off this prefect duty. Harry suspected he was worried that the other Slytherins might ambush him as they had done to Harry on previous occasions, but Hermione forced him to walk the halls with her. They both returned uninjured.

As the sun set, they retired their school robes, and Luna entertained them with the highlights of the last Quibbler issue. Though it seemed like a long time since they had left the school, the train stopped all too soon for Harry.

They took their trunks down, and Draco left them to retrieve his. Harry took Hedwig's cage in one hand and dragged his trunk with the other. He stepped off the train. Students were flooding out and parents were surging in to meet them. No one was meeting Harry.

He followed Ron and Hermione through the barrier and felt a strange sort of rushing calm. He was a full-fledged wizard now. Soon he would know whether he had been approved for Auror training, but until then…

He had no plans. He would have to find a place to stay, probably near London. He was sure his vault at Gringotts would tide him over for a while, but he might want to find some kind of work until he started receiving an Auror salary. He was free. Completely free. Free of Voldemort. Free of the Dursleys…though he might give Dudley and Judith a ring. Free from the castle walls he held so dear. Free to travel. Free to stay. Free to read what books he wanted or not read anything for while. Free to practice magic. Free to pursue his next great adventure.

"Hey, Mum!" he heard Ron call and saw Mrs. Weasley run up to meet him. Ginny and Mr. Weasley moved in to the family embrace.

"There's my parents!" Hermione said. She ran off in their direction.

Down the platform, Draco Malfoy stood about looking lost, probably feeling a similar detachment to what Harry felt.

Harry wondered about Persephone. He was happy to have found her, but this was not how he had envisioned finding family. He did not feel a sharp loss in their separation, because he had not had time to form a tight bond with her. Maybe he could talk her into to staying with him for a few months, but part of him was looking forward to being on his own.

He realized a head of bushy hair was bobbing towards him. Hermione stopped in front of Harry, pressed close to him by the crowd. "Harry," she said, then leaned in and gave him a quick kiss on the lips. "Keep in touch." She smiled and hurried back to where her parents waited. Harry watched her go. Her last words rolled over in his mind. _Keep in touch_.

Yes. He would do that.

Harry ran his hand through his hair. His palm graced his forehead. He looked up to find the Weasleys trying to wave him over. Ginny even managed a smile for him. Harry smiled back at them.

Maybe it was a little vain of him, but he wondered if, now that Voldemort was gone, some healer at St. Mungos might finally be able to do something about his scar.

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